FRED  LAWRENCE; 


OB, 


Tl£    W8fiLB-E8LLEGE 

BY 
MARGARET    E.    TELLER. 


tkragfie  .  lhnu  arl  tetter  for  tfce  strife,  and  the  »ery  energy  *h«H  hearten  tfc«« 
Iom)  ta  ••u«rht  in  \  Sj>art»u  •rlioel,  hard  U-hmoiu  and  a  roosh  diftciplrne 


NEW  YORK. 

DODD,    MEAD    &     COMPANY 

Pu  B  Lis  HE  KS. 


TO   MY   BROTHERS, 

WITH   THE   HOPE 
THAT  FOB  THEM   THE  DISCIPLINE   Or 

®Ije  Morlb- College 

XII    PRODUCE    THE    HIGHEST    DEVELOPMBHl 

OF  MIND  AND  HEART, 

fffcis  little  Sfeftrf) 

If   AFFECTIONATELY    DEDICATED. 


2133274 


FRED  LAWRENCE, 

OR, 


CHAPTER   I. 


"  He  whose  ardor  brightly  burneth 
With  a  purpose  true  ami  strong, 
In  the  end  a  laurel  earneth 
Nobler  than  the  highest  song." 


"  I  tell  you,  Fred,  it  is  a  great  shame  you 
don't  go  to  college.  You  deserve  it  better 
than  any  other  one  in  the  academy.  Here 
am  I,  poor  dog !  at  the  foot  of  all  my  classes, 
and  destined,  for  aught  I  see,  to  remain  so 
to  the  end  of  my  course  ;  and  there  are  you 
at  the  head,  smarter  than  all  the  rest  of  us 
put  together,  and  loving  study  as  a  fish  loves 
water,  obliged  to  quit  all  your  favorite  em- 
ployments to  bury  yourself  in  a  dusty  count- 
ing-room, over  stupid  ledgers.  For  me  it 
1*  W 


6  FEED   LAWRENCE. 

would  be  a  good  enough  punishment  for 
ray  laziness  at  school,  but  for  you,  I  say  it 
is  a  shame.'' 

"  Oh,  well,  Charley,  the  matter  is  all  set 
tied  now,  and  there  is  no  use  crying  about  it. 
I  should  like  a  collegiate  education  very 
much,  of  course.  I  used  to  think  there  was 
no  such  thing  as  living  without  it ;  but  I 
begin  to  think  that,  after  all,  it  isn't  the 
chief  end  of  man  to  go  through  college." 

"  What  is,  then  ?  to  grow  hump-backed 
over  account-books?" 

"  Not  exactly  ;  but  to  do  one's  duty,  what- 
ever disagreeable  consequences  it  may  in- 
volve." 

The  two  boys  were  sauntering  slowly  home 
from  school,  on  the  summer  afternoon  that 
closed  their  academic  year. 
'  Fred  Lawrence  and  Charley  Mason  had 
been  boon  companions  during  the  years  in 
which  they  had  been  thrown  together  as 
schoolmates.  They  were  not  yet  of  an  age 
when  wealth  and  social  position  interpose 


FRED   LAWRENCE.  7 

tlieir  barriers  between  those  whom  God  hath 
joined  together  by  congeniality  of  tempera- 
ment ;  and  though  Charles  was  the  petted 
child,  of  luxury,  while  Frederic  was  reared 
.n  poverty,  and  accustomed  to  toil  and  pri- 
vation, there  had  sprung  up  between  them 
an  attachment  of  unusual  strength  and  purity. 

"  I  can  tell  you  a  reason,  Charley,"  said 
Fred,  "  that  will  explain  why  I  give  up  the 
hope  of  a  liberal  education  so  easily.  It  is 
my  own  choice.  I  had  the  offer  of  a  colle- 
giate course,  and,  after  thinking  it  over,  con- 
cluded to  decline." 

"  You— decline !" 

"  Yes,  for  though  I  valued  the  noble  gener- 
osity of  the  proposal,  I  was  not  willing  to  be 
dependent  for  so  great  a  favor.  And,  be- 
sides, Charley,  you  must  know  that,  as  tho 
only  son,  I  have  a  sort  of  pride  in  the  hopo 
of  furnishing  a  support  to  my  mother  and 
sister.  I  think  it  would  be  rather  selfish — 
don't  you? — tc  take  six  or  seven  years 
now  for  my  own  improvement,  and  leave  all 


8  FRED    LAWRENCE. 

the  burden  of  their  maintenance  upon  niy 
mother." 

"  You  are  quite  right,  Fred,  as  you  always 
are.  I  had  no  idea  that  you  had  so  strong 
reasons  for  going  into  business." 

"  I  wanted  you  to  know  all  about  it ; 
though  I  suppose  it  isn't  exactly  the  fashion 
to  talk  about  such  affairs.  We  have  been 
pretty  good  friends,  haven't  we,  Charley,  all 
these  years?  We  shall  never  be  so  much 
together  again." 

"  That's  half  that  makes  me  wish  you  were 
going  to  college,  or  that  I  could  stay  at 
home.  I  always  had  a  passion  for  going  to 
new  places,  and  seeing  new  things ;  but  now 
it  seems  that  I  am  losing  a  great  deal  in 
making  the  change.  Next  Monday  I  go  into 
the  country,  and  as  soon  as  I  come  back,  off 
for  New  Haven." 

"  And  next  Monday,  I  go  to  business." 

"You're  a  noble  fellow,  Fred,  and  I'm 
mistaken  if  you  don't  turn  up  something  bet- 
ter than  the  whole  crew  of  college  boys,  after 


FRED    LAWRENCE.  9 

ill.     And  yet,  with  a  mind  like  yours,  you 
ought  to  be  educated." 

"  And  I  will  be  educated,"  said  Frederic, 
proudly.  "  The  world  is  my  university,  Char- 
ley, and  it  is  as  large  a  one  as  most  persons 
have  to  study  in." 

"  Well,  Fred,  success  to  you !  I  always 
said  you  were  a  genius,  and  you  will  prove 
my  sagacity  one  of  these  days." 

They  stood  at  the  door  of  Mr.  Mason's 
beautiful  mansion  :  a  hearty  shake  of  the 
hand,  a  promise  to  meet  again  to-morrow, 
and  the  schoolmates  had  separated. 

As  Fred  Lawrence  walked  briskly  on,  in 
the  direction  of  his  own  home,  some  painful 
thoughts,  in  spite  of  his  resolution,  disturbed 
the  usual  serenity  of  his  mind.  "  The  end  of 
anything  is  painful,"  some  one  has  said 
There  is  truth  in  the  remark,  for  even  the 
rudest  circumstances  with  which  we  come  in 
contact,  afford  some  support  to  the  clinging 
tendrils  of  affection.  But  a  school  relation, 
enlisting  as  it  does  the  best  energies  of  the 


10  FRED   LAWRENCE. 

young  mind,  calling  forth  toward  teachers 
and  fellow-pupils  the  most  generous  emotions 
of  the  heart,  cannot  fail  to  maintain  a  strong 
hold  upon  the  interest  and  affections,  and 
make  itself  felt  even  amid  the  rude  warfare 
of  life  which  effaces  all  lighter  impressions. 
We  envy  not  that  scholar  who  can  leave  the 
scene  of  his  earlier  mental  efforts  without 
regret,  in  whose  heart  the  memories  of  school 
associations  are  not  ensnrmeu  amid  the  in- 
cense of  grateful  affection. 

Fred  felt  as  if  the  ship  that  had  carried 
him  thus  far  on  his  life-voyage,  had  suddenly 
cast  him  overboard,  and  he  was  left  to  strug- 
gle by  his  own  unaided  strength  against  the 
cold,  dark  waves  of  early  experience.  Behind 
him  were  the  honors  of  boyish  achievement, 
the  pleasure  of  mental  exertion,  the  approval 
of  teachers,  the  pleasant  companionship  of 
schoolmates.  Before  him  was  labor,  often 
exhausting ;  circumscription  in  his  favorite 
pursuits ;  and  a  daily  routine  of  tiresome  and 
uninteresting  employments. 


FRED    LAWRENCE.  11 

Yet,  to  yield  to  despondency  was  the  last 
thing  he  would  have  thought  of.  What  boy 
of  fifteen  was  ever  ready  to  sink  down  in 
discouragement  at  any  view  of  life?  What 
young  heart,  once  started  in  the  career  of 
honorable  enterprise,  feels  not  that  within 
itself  which  is  superior  to  every  difficulty, 
and  capable  of  unlimited  achievement?  There 
is  no  obstacle  to  a  determined  spirit ;  no 
duty  can  be  burdensome  when  attracted  by 
the  magnetic  power  of  a  ready  will. 


CHAPTER    II. 


M  Ah  1  how  skilful  grows  .he  hand 
That  obeyeth  love's  command  I 
It  is  the  heart,  and  net  the  brain, 
That  to  the  highest  doth  attain." 


"Aftee  all,"  said  Fred  to  himself,  as  he 
Btood  upon  the  doorsteps  of  the  quiet  cottage 
he  called  his  home,  "If  Charley  Mason's 
house  is  ever  so  splendid,  I  had  rather  have 
my  own  dear  little  home  any  day.  Mine  it 
is,  and  it  shall  be  retained  by  my  own  exer- 
tions." 

He  felt  every  inch  a  man  as  the  new 
responsibility  dawned  upon  him.  The 
noblest  impulse  that  can  dwell  in  the  human 
breast  animated  his  soul ;  the  resolution  to 
protect  and  support  the  weaker  ones  depend- 
ent upon  him.  Mother  and  sister  should  be 
relieved  of  care  ;  Addie  should  be  educated 
better  than  ever  he  had  been  :  she  was  only 
twelve  so  there  was  time  enough  yet,  Fred 
(12) 


FRED    LAWRENCE.  13 

thought.  In  fact,  he  began  to  consider  him- 
self as  quite  the  head  of  the  family,  in  its 
financial  relations. 

It  was  late  before  he  slept  that  night. 
The  new  hope  and  courage  brought  joy,  but 
not  peace  as  yet.  There  were  so  many 
thoughts  and  schemes  to  be  revolved,  that  he 
worked  himself  into  quite  a  mental  excite- 
ment ;  and,  when  he  slept,  it  was  only  to 
carry  on  in  his  dreams  the  same  train  of 
ideas,  only  curiously  exaggerated  and  dis- 
torted. 

First,  he  was  a  great  giant,  like  Christo- 
pher of  old,  and  a  flood  was  rising  over  the 
city,  up  to  the  very  windows  of  their  little 
parlor.  Our  hero  took  his  mother  in  one 
arm,  and  Addie  in  the  other,  and  carried 
them  away  through  the  dashing  waters,  on 
to  a  high  mountain,  where  they  all  three 
stood  looking  down  upon  the  waves  roaring 
beneath  them,  but  unable  to  approach  their 
resting-place. 

Then  he  was  a  knight-errant,  wandering 
2 


14  FRED   LAWRENCE. 

about  the  world  in  quest  of  adventures.  In 
some  waste  howling  wilderness  he  found  his 
sister  Addie,  about  to  be  eaten  up  by  a 
dragon.  He  put  his  spear  in  rest,  and 
charged  furiously  upon  the  beast,  which 
yielded,  as  these  storied  monsters  were 
bound  to  do,  to  knightly  valor.  Then,  as  he 
turned  to  reassure  Addie  after  her  fright 
lo  1  it  was  no  longer  his  own  little  sister,  but 
a  beautiful  princess,  clothed  in  velvet,  and 
gold,  and  ermine,  whom  he  must  escort,  with 
chivalrous  courtesy,  to  her  palace,  amid  the 
acclamations  of  all  spectators,  and  receive 
the  unbounded  gratitude  of  the  aged  king, 
her  father. 

After  the  requisite  preliminaries,  which 
are  more  quickly  dispatched  in  dream-life 
than  in  the  actual,  he  was  to  espouse  the 
princess,  and  receive  with  her  hand  the 
dominion  of  her  paternal  realm.  There  wa? 
infinite  rejoicing  in  the  capital,  the  populace 
shouted,  the  cannon  were  fired,  (in  the  days 
of  chivabyl    a  dreamy  anachronism,)  and 


FRED    LAWRENCE.  15 

the  Jells  sent  forth  their  merry  peal,  long 
and  ioud,  upon  the  bright  morning  air ; — 
quite  too  long  and  loud,  for  our  hero  was 
startled  from  his  romantic  dreams  to  hear 
Addie  ringing  the  breakfast-bell  at  the  foot 
of  the  stairs. 

Monday  morning  came,  and  Frederic  Law- 
rence was  installed  in  his  situation  at  Smith, 
Brown  &  Co.'s";  the  said  situation  being  an 
elevated  seat  in  front  of  a  desk,  containing 
a  h  amber  of  leather-bound  ledgers.  The 
apartment  entitled  "  counting-room,"  like 
most  places  uninvaded  by  feminine  neatness 
and  taste,  had  a  forlorn  and  dingy  appearance, 
which  presented  to  our  schoolboy  rattier  a 
cheerless  contrast  with  the  neat  little  sitting- 
room  at  home,  or  the  airy  and  spacious  halls 
of  the  academy.  The  ponderous  day-book, 
in  which  he  was  to  enter  the  uninteresting 
items  of  debit  and  credit,  was  a  poor  sub- 
stitute for  the  beloved  school-books  over 
which  he  used  t )  bend  with  delight  and 
enthusiasm. 


16  FRED   LAWRENCE. 

Nevertheless,  Fred's  heart  was  luminous 
with  hope  and  enterprise,  so  that  he  needed 
little  light  reflected  from  surrounding  objects. 
Visions  of  mother  and  home  lent  a  cheer 
even  to  his  dark  corner  by  the  desk,  nerved 
his  hand  when  the  pen  seemed  to  have  growr 
into  its  stiffened  muscles,  and  concentrated  < 
whole  day  full  of  happiness  into  the  twilight 
hour  when  the  day's  task  was  finished,  and 
he  commenced  the  homeward  walk.  There 
is  a  magic  in  the  power  of  association. 
The  most  uncongenial  employments,  when 
prompted  by  the  heart's  best  affections,  seem 
to  absorb  into  themselves  the  beauty  and 
reflect  the  lustre  of  those  affections.  Thus 
Frederic,  after  selecting  a  vocation  inher- 
ently distasteful  to  him  in  duty  to  his  mother, 
and  performing  its  services  faithfully  from  a 
sense  of  right,  soon  conceived  quite  a  liking 
for  the  vocation  itself. 

Smith,  Brown  &  Co.  presently  discovered 
a  wonderful  aptitude  for  business  in  their 
assistant  book-koeoer.    The  whole  force  of 


FRED   LAWRENCE.  17 

fiis  mind  was  concentrated  upon  his  work 
until  the  thousand  details  of  trade  and  ac- 
counts seemed  intuitively  familiar  to  him; 
and  every  duty  was  performed  with  such 
hearty  good-will,  that  he  soon  stood  beyond 
most  of  his  fellow-clerks  both  in  real  knowl- 
edge of  the  business  and  in  the  esteem  of  hia 
employers. 

In  the  mean  time,  his  favorite  studies  had 
not  been  abandoned.  Though  the  long 
golden  hours  of  the  day  were  demanded  by 
other  employments,  the  morning  and  evening 
were  his  own  ;  and  the  time  saved  from  sleep 
or  amusement  was  made  to  yield  rich  returns 
of  improvement.  Habits  of  severe  mental 
application  are  not  speedily  formed,  but 
when  once  established,  they  amply  repay 
the  effort  required. 
2* 


CHAPTER    III. 

u  No  man  wadeth  in  learning  or  contemplation  thoroughly,  but  will 
Ind  that  printed  in  his  heart :  Iknow  nothing." — Bacon. 
"  Knowledge  dwells 
In  heads  replete  with  thoughts  of  other  men, 
Wisdom  in  minds  attentive  to  their  own. 
Knowledge  is  proud  that  he  has  learned  so  much, 
Wisdom  is  humble  that  he  knows  no  more." 

Cowper. 


"  Oh,  Fred  !  how  you  frighten  me !"  Addie 
exclaimed,  as  she  met  him  on  the  stairs  one 
winter  morning.  Very  charmingly  she  look- 
ed, Fred  thought,  as  she  stood  with  the 
lamp  in  her  hand,  her  little  morning  wrapper 
falling  around  her  feet,  the  golden  curls 
floating  carelessly  over  her  shoulders,  and 
her  blue  eyes  wide  open  with  amazement. 

"  What  can  you  be  doing  so  early  tn  the 
morning  ?"  she  continued.  * 

"  Oh,  1  am  about  my  business,"  he  replied, 
smiling. 

"  I  should  think  business  required  enough 
(18) 


FRED    LAWRENCE.  19 

time  from  sunrise  to   supper-time,  without 
calling  you  up  at  this  hour." 

"  I  meant  my  own  personal  interests : 
namely,  the  improvement  of  my  mind.  If  I 
attend  to  Smith  &  Brown's  affairs  all  day, 
there  is  no  objection  to  a  care  of  my  own 
before  breakfast,  I  suppose." 

"  Not  a  bit,  but  I  never  saw  you  about  so 
early  before." 

"  Whose  laziness  do  you  ascribe  that  to  V 
said  Fred,  laughing.  "But  what  are  you 
doing,  little  puss,  mousing  around  the  house 
before  daylight?" 

"  I'm  going  to  kindle  the  fire,  and  get 
breakfast  before  mother  wakes ;  so,  don't 
you  make  a  breath  of  noise." 

"  But  you  are  "shaking  with  the  cold.  Rud 
back  to  bed,  and  I  will  make  the  fire  foi 
you." 

"  Oh,  pshaw !  no  :  do  you  think  I  am  afraid 
of  the  cold  ?  I  wouldn't  allow  such  a  waste 
of  your  valuable  time.  You  know  I  can 
study  all  day.    So  go  about  your  business, 


20  FRED    LAWRENCE. 

Mr.  Book-keeper,  and  I  will  attend  to  mine," 
said  Addie,  tripping  lightly  down  the  stairs. 

It  was  not  long  before  the  little  house- 
keeper had  a  bright  fire  burning  in  the  cook- 
ing stove,  and  proceeded  to  the  manufacture 
of  the  biscuits  ;  while  her  brother  established 
his  lexicon  and  Cicero  at  the  other  end  of 
the  table,  by  the  east  window,  in  order  to 
catch  the  first  rays  of  the  daylight. 

Though  Addie  continued  her  notable 
practice  of  early  rising  through  the  winter, 
she  had  no  more  fires  to  kindle.  At  what- 
ever hour  she  entered  the  kitchen,  a  cheerful 
blaze  greeted  her  arrival,  and  the  student, 
with  his  books,  was  occupying  the  same 
corner  by  the  east  window. 

Stolen  waters  are  sweet ;  and  who  can 
deny  that  two  hours  of  study  thus  snatched 
from  all-engrossing  toil,  have  a  richer  zest, 
and  impart  to  the  mind  more  of  athletic 
glow  and  strength,  than  weeks  under  the 
enforced  routine  of  instruction  ? 

"  Mother,"  said  Fred,  as  he  sat  on  a  low 


FRED    LAWRENCE.  21 

footstool  at  her  feet  that  evening,  "  are  you 
very  sorry  that  I  did  not  go  to  college?" 

"  I  have  not  allowed  myself  to  think  much 
of  it  lately,  my  son.  We  decided  the  ques- 
tion as  wisely  as  we  were  able,  and  it  would 
be  a  weakness  now  to  indulge  in  vain 
regrets." 

"But  I  mean,  mother,  do  you  think  I  shall 
lose  very  much?  I  am  studying  at  home, 
you  know,  and  mean,  if  I  live,  to  take  every 
study  that  is  useful  or  desirable  to  be 
acquainted  with — though,  of  course,  it  will 
take  some  years  to  go  through  with  my 
plan." 

"  In  some  respects  it  may  possibly  be 
better  for  you.  Beside  the  knowledge 
gained,  you  will  acquire  strength  and  deci- 
sion of  character,  by  the  very  effort  required 
to  accomplish  your  plan  without  any  coer- 
cion but  that  of  your  own  will." 

"  I  had  a  letter  to-day  from  Charley 
Mason.  He  is  tired  and  sick  of  college  life, 
which  he  calls  a  mere  slavery  to  rules.    He 


22  FRED   LAWRENCE. 

seems  to  have  no  respect  for  tutors  jy  pro* 
fessors ;  and  all  these  studies  that  I  am  so 
much  interested  in  are  only  disagreeable 
tasks  to  him." 

"  I  hardly  think  you  would  find  it  so  if 
you  were  in  college.  Charley,  you  know, 
has  never  been  subject  to  much  constraint, 
and  the  necessary  rules  of  such  an  institu- 
tion would  weigh  more  heavily  upon  him." 

"  I  don't  think  there  is  so  much  use,  after 
all,  in  a  collegiate  course.  If  a  fellow  has  a 
will  to  study,  there  are  books  enough,  and 
there's  no  need  of  his  being  a  dunce." 

"  Certainly,  if  accumulation  of  ideas  was 
the  only  object,  hermit-life  might  be  better 
than  college,  and  one's  own  quiet  home,  in  the 
intervals  of  business,  quite  as  well  as  either. 
But  there  are  some  evils  to  be  guarded 
against,  in  a  solitary  course  of  study.  Yon 
are  more  liable  to  acquire  one-sided  and 
narrow  views ;  and,  having  little  oppor- 
tunity of  comparing  them  with  those  of 
otters,  they  easily  settle  into  dogmatism  and 


FRED    LAWRENCE.  23 

obstinacy.  Being  fully  persuaded  in  your 
own  mind  of  the  truth  of  your  opinion,  you 
may  not  treat  with  sufficient  respect  those  of 
other  people,  which  perhaps  rest  on  stronger 
foundations,  and  have  been  more  carefully 
formed  than  your  own." 

"  Is  this  the  fault  only  of  those  who  are 
self-educated  ?"  asked  Fred. 

"  Certainly  not,  though  it  is  a  very  com- 
mon— perhaps  unjust — reproach  of  '  self- 
made  men.'  It  belongs  to  a  low  degree  of 
knowledge,  however  gained.  The  chief  ad- 
vantage of  a  course  of  study  in  a  large 
institution  is,  that  you  come  in  contact  with 
other  minds,  many  of  which  will  be  stronger 
and  better  cultivated  than  your  own  ; 
remember,  too,  that  education  means  far 
more  than  the  accumulation  of  ideas.  The 
development  of  all  our  powers  is  a  life-work, 
and  four  years  of  collegiate  study  is  but  a 
small  part  of  this  work.  He  only  is  truly 
educated  who  knows  how  to  embody  in  life 
the  ideas  he  has  acquired ;    to   act   more 


24  FRED    LAWRENCE. 

wisely,  to  live  more  nobly,  from  the  knowl 
edge  gained.  And  he  who  enters  earnestly 
on  the  pursuit  of  this  highest  good,  will  fir.d 
the  field  so  vast  as  to  leave  little  oppor- 
tunity for  pride." 

"  There  isn't  much  hope  of  ever  being 
satisfied  with  one's  own  attainments."  said 
Fred,  "  if  we  judge  by  those  who  have  been 
most  successful.  The  greatest  of  scholars 
seem  to  have  been  usually  the  humblest  of 
men." 

"  At  least  when  their  manhood  was  in  any 
due  proportion  to  their  scholarship.  There 
is  no  more  pitiable  object  than  a  mind 
loaded  down  with  great  and  varied  erudi- 
tion, without  moral  vitality  to  use  and 
dignify  the  possession.  There  have  been 
misers  of  knowledge  as  well  as  of  gold.  A 
true  and  worthy  ambition  desires  wisdom  in 
the  use,  as  well  as  success,  in  the  attainment 
of  either  of  these  means  of  influence.  And 
those  who  have  true  wisdom  will  know  how 
to  estimate  rightly  their  acquisitions  so  that 


FRED    LAWRENCE.  25 

they  are  saved  from  the  dangers  of  conceit. 
Do  you  remember  the  anecdote  of  Sir  Isaac 
Newton,  when  he  was  congratulated,  just 
before  his  death,  on  his  vast  attainments  in 
physical  science?  He  said  he  seemed  to  him- 
self like  a  little  child  playing  on  the  shores 
of  a  boundless  ocean.  He  had  gathered  a 
few  shells  and  pebbles  from  the  beach,  but 
the  whole  expanse  of  knowledge  lay  unex- 
plored before  him. 

Frederic  was  silent :  a  limitless  horizon 
seemed  outspread  before  him.  His  pride 
was  humbled,  and  ambition  sobered  by  the 
vastness  of  the  field  ;  but  aspiration  burned 
with  a  stronger  and  clearer  flame,  because 
freed  from  the  fumes  of  vanity  and  conceit. 

Into  the  kingdom  of  knowledge,  as  into 
the  kingdom  of  heaven,  one  must  enter  as  a 
little  child.  He  whose  earnest  aspiration  is 
tempered  by  a  childlike  humility,  is  doubly 
furnished  to  the  search  for  truth. 


CHAPTER    IV. 


'  Friendly  love  perfectcth  mankind." 

Baooh. 


Perhaps  Fred  may  best  be  allowed  to  tell 
liis  own  story  of  his  course  of  self-instruction 
in  a  letter  to  Charles  Mason.  But  let  ua 
first  look  over  his  shoulder  at  the  letter  he  is 
about  to  answer. 

"  Dear  Fred  : 

"  I  have  a  sort  of  idea  that  I  promised 
you  a  letter,  as  soon  as  I  became  fairly  settled 
in  college  life.  Whether  I  did  or  not,  I  am 
just  in  the  mood  for  a  talk  with  you  tin 
evening,  to  help  shake  off  a  fit  of  homesick- 
ness. 

"  Now  don't  laugh  at  me  for  being  home- 
sick, until  I  have  described  my  position.   Yon 
don''  k:iow  how  st  lpid  it  is  to  be  subject  to 
(26) 


FRED   LAWRENCE.  27 

such  horrible  rules.  The  first  thing  you  hear, 
after  you  go  to  sleep  at  night,  is,  a  tremen- 
dous bell  dingiDg  in  your  ear?,  which  says 
"Get  up."  There  is  no  resisting  the  com 
mand ;  so  you  rub  open  your  eyes,  hustle  on 
your  clotlus,  and  are  off  in  the  raw  morning 
air  to  exercises  at  the  chapel.  These  are 
stupid  enough  in  the  circumstances,  you  may 
well  believe.  After  shivering  half  an  hour 
in  a  cold  room,  you  are  dismissed  for  an 
hour's  study. 

"  Well,  I  believe  I  will  not  inflict  upon  you 
the  whole  routine ;  but  I  do  say,  going  to 
college  is  not  as  grand  an  affair  as  it  is  said 
to  be.  I  declare,  Fred,  much  as  I  hate  busi- 
ness, I  would  rather  spend  the  hours  of  the 
day  over  a  ledger,  and  be  my  own  master 
the  rest  of  the  time,  than  be  a  slave  night  and 
day  to  that  confounded  bell ;  tied  down  to 
mathematics  and  all  such  stupid  stuff  all  the 
time,  with  disgrace  in  reversion  in  case  of 
the  slightest  negligence.  Laziness  always 
was  my  besetting  sin,  you  know,  anl  now 


28  FRED    LAWBENCE. 

Tutor  Jones  is  determined  to  pursue  it  with 
a  whip  of  scorpions. 

"  Disagreeable  as  the  whole  thing  is,  I  am 
determined,  if  possible,  to  do  myself  justice, 
and  not  make  my  friends  ashamed  of  me. 
That  is  one  of  my  troubles  ;  if  I  had  no  am- 
bition in  the  case,  I  could  get  along  more 
easily. 

"  We  do  have  some  fun  now  and  then,  tak- 
ing off  the  professors,  and  playing  jokes  on 
"  old  Prex."  One  soon  gets  tired  of  such 
jokes,  however,  though  we  are  bound  to  con- 
sider them  remarkably  brilliant  at  the 
time. 

"  By  the  way,  Fred,  how  do  you  like  that 
'world-college'  you  were  to  enter?  If  it 
gives  you  as  hard  work  as  these  of  the  smaller 
sort,  I  pity  you.  Deliver  me  from  a  world 
full  of  such  drudgery  as  this. 

"Do  tell  me  what  you  are  doing,  and  all 
about  your  plans.  If  anybody  in  this  world 
can  put  any  good  into  me,  it  is  you.  I  wish 
you  were  here  to  push  me  along,  if  not  for 


FRED    LAWRENCE.  29 

your  own  sake.  For  yourself.  I  suppose 
there  is  no  need  of  it,  for  you  are  bound  to 
succeed  wherever  you  are. 

"  Please  write  often,  and  give  me,  if  you 
can,  the  secret  of  your  good  luck. 
"  Yours,  forever, 

"  Charles  Mason." 

4  Dear  Charley  : 

"  I  was  very  glad  to  receive  your 
letter  last  Friday,  for  it  seemed  like  one  of 
our  old  schoolboy  talks.  Those  were  pleas- 
ant times  that  we  used  to  have  at  the  old 
academy,  weren't  they  ?  Pleasant,  especially 
to  look  back  upon,  though  I  should  not  care 
to  have  had  them  last  forever.  Indeed,  I 
believe  I  am  better  contented  now  than  I  was 
at  school,  much  as  I  disliked  to  leave.  Now 
my  whole  time  is  occupied,  and  I  am  pretty 
sure  that  I  am  doing  all  I  can. 

"  It  may  be  the  world-college  is  as  good  as 
a  smaller  one  after  all,  for  I  have  not  got 
tired  of  it  yet.     The  course  of  study  grows 


30  FRED   LAWRENCE. 

upon  mo,  though  ;  and  I  am  afraid  I  filial! 
hardly  get  through  in  a  lifetime. 

u  1  am  sorry  you  are  homesick,  Charley 
but  I  think  you  will  get  over  it  before  long 
That  is  all  the  consolation  I  can  offer.  A 
little  of  the  'tincture  of  time/  is  the  best 
prescription,  as  Dr.  H.  says.  Freshman  year 
is  always  said  to  be  the  most  disagreeable 
of  the  four  ;  so  don't  get  discouraged  in  the 
first  six  months. 

"  Since  you  ask  what  I  am  doing,  I  will 
give  you  a  little  account  of  my  studies.  I 
am  attending  chiefly  to  Latin  and  Greek  this 
winter,  as  I  was  more  afraid  of  losing  in 
those  what  I  had  gained  at  school. 

"  As  I  am  obliged  to  be  at  the  store  at 
half-past  eight,  I  can  seldom  get  more  than 
an  hour  and  a  half,  these  short  mornings,  for 
study,  beside  breakfast  and  the  walk.  In 
those  hours,  I  have  read  all  of  Cicero's  Ora- 
tions since  leaving  school,  and  am  now  study- 
ing Horace.  The  Greek  grammar  I  repeat 
to  myself  on  the  walk  over  to  the  store  which 


FRED    LAWRENCE.  31 

takes  a  half-hour  of  morning  time  too  valua- 
ble to  be  wasted. 

"  I  have  an  excellent  chance  to  practise  in 
French,  as  we  have  a  French  clerk  who 
lives  over  here ;  so  I  walk  home  with  him 
every  night,  and  we  chatter  all  the  way. 
This  is  good  amusement;  and  besides,  when 
I  go  to  Europe,  as  I  mean  to,  some  day,  it 
will  be  of  use  to  me.  I  shall  learn  German 
in  the  same  way  by-and-by.  , 

"  In  the  evening  I  read  Xenophon.  1  en- 
joy studying  grandly  so  far  ;  partly,  I  sup- 
pose, because  I  choose  my  own  tasks,  and 
take  it  instead  of  play.  There  is  no  roon« 
for  complaint  or  insubordination,  since  I  am 
'  Prof.,'  '  Prex,'  and  Tutor,  as  well  as  student. 
It  is  remarkable  what  excellent  discipline 
can  be  maintained  in  such  an  institution. 

"But  remember,  Charley,  you  are  in  the 
world-college  as  well  as  I ;  only  you  happen 
to  be  gentleman  commoner,  and  I  sizar,  aa 
they  say  in  England.  I  don't  care  a  fig  foi 
the  difference  now   for  I  like  the  idea  of 


32  FRED   LAWRENCE. 

fairly  earning  everything  I  learn.  With  so 
few  hours  for  study,  I  cannot  expect  to  ad- 
vance quite  as  fast  as  you  will,  with  all  your 
time  at  your  command  ;  but  I  shall  do  what 
I  can,  so  take  care  that  with  a  fair  start  you 
don't  get  beaten. 

"  Write  to  me  often,  do  ;  and  tell  me  next 
time  that  you  have  buried  home-sickness  and 
laziness,  as  you  soon  will  Euclid,  and  ar* 
going  to  work  like  a  good  fellow  as  you  arc 
"  Yours  truly,  as  ever, 

"  Fred  Lawrence." 


CHAPTER    V. 


"  A  manly  spirit  of  content, 
Feeling  that  life  is  wisest  spent 
Where  the  strong  working  hand  makes  strong  the  sorting  brain.  ' 

WnnrrjH. 


On  returning  from  business  one  night, 
Fred  was  pleasantly  surprised  to  find  his 
mother's  brother,  Lieutenant  Stanton,  who 
had  just  returned  from  a  three  years'  cruise 
m  the  Chinese  seas.  This  uncle  had  been 
the  hero  of  Fred's  childish  fancy.  Tlis 
stirring  tales  of  adventure  among  the  perils 
of  the  sea  had  given  him  a  place  among  the 
knights  and  warriors  of  chivalrous  romance  ; 
and  his  frequent  protracted  absences  on  the 
duties  of  his  profession  had  lent  to  his  move- 
ments that  charm  of  mystery  which  only 
serves  to  feed  the  sentiment  of  hero-worship. 

To  the  admiring  view  of  Fred,  the  three 
letters  "  U.  S.  N."  formed  the  proudest 
escutcheon  ever  claimed  by  gallant  knight, 

(83) 


84  FRED    LAWItENCfc. 

or  cmbroiuered  by  "ladie  faire."  Though 
the  dark  ages  of  childish  romance  had  passed, 
he  ptill  regarded  his  sailor  uncle  "with  all  the 
deference  that  an  active,  enterprising  boy 
can  feel,  for  one  whose  whole  life  is  passed 
amid  scenes  of  peril  and  adventure.  While 
his  father  lived,  his  highest  ambition  had  been 
to  enter  the  same  profession,  and  win  his 
way  under  his  country's  flag  to  renown  and 
high  command.  Like  other  childish  dreams,  t 
this  had  faded  away  in  the  broad  daylight 
of  actual  life.  But,  unknown  to  him,  his 
uncle  had,  during  this  absence,  been  maturing 
a  similar  plan  for  him,  and  had  already  taken 
the  initial  steps  toward  procuring  for  him  a 
midshipman's  warrant  under  his  own  com- 
mand. 

"  Well,  Fred,  my  boy,  are  you  ready  to  go 
to  sea  with  me?"  said  Uncle  James,  after  a 
hearty  sailor's  grip  and  the  first  words  of 
salutation.  "  I  have  proposed  it  to  your 
mother,  and  she  leaves  the  matter  to  your 
decision." 


FRED   LAWRENCE.  35 

"  The  question  is  decided  already,  uncle, 
My  duty  Beems  to  be  in  the  land  service." 

'■  O  ho !  so  you  have  given  rip  your  liking 
for  salt  water,  and  foreign  travel,  and  hair- 
breadth 'scapes,  and  are  willing  to  settle 
down  for  a  landsman  all  your  days.  I 
thought  better  of  you,  Fred.*' 

Fred  did  not  choose  to  enter  into  all  his 
reasonings  in  the  presence  of  his  mother  and 
sister  ;  so  after  some  raillery  the  subject  wa3 
dropped. 

It  was  renewed,  however,  by  Lieutenan 
Stanton,  as  he  walked  with  Fred  to  his  place 
of  business  the  next  morning. 

"  Now,  tell  me  plainly,"  said  he.  "  whether 
you  really  do  not  wish  to  enter  the  navy,  or 
have  you  only  ceased  thinking  of  it  at  all  ?" 

"  I  have  thought  it  all  over,  uncle,  and 
decided  to  give  up  all  idea  of  it.  I  could 
not  engage  in  any  calling  that  would  take 
me  away  from  my  mother  and  sister,  or  pre- 
vent me  for  even  a  year  from  contributing 
to  their  support." 


46  FRED   LAWRENCE. 

"  It  is  an  honorable  purpose,  my  hoy,  but 
I  tliink  we  can  provide  for  them  and  you  too. 
I  have  something  laid  aside,  and  no  one  to 
need  it,  which  I  will  gladly  place  at  your 
mother's  disposal.  I  think  it  will  be  for 
your  interest  to  enter  the  navy.  I  have 
some  influence  with  the  Department,  I  be- 
lieve, and  if  you  do  well,  as  of  course  you 
will,  a  few  years  will  bring  you  promotion 
to  a  station  worth  having." 

They  walked  on  in  silence  a  few  minutes. 
At  last  Fred  said — 

"  I  hope,  uncle,  you  will  not  think  that  I 
undervalue  your  kindness  ;  but  it  seems  very 
plain  to  me  that  my  duty  is  at  home.  It 
would  seem  like  deserting  my  post  to  leave 
my  mother  and  sister  so  alone." 

"  You  are  satisfied,  then,  to  stay  on  land, 
and  be  a  book-keeper  all  your  days !"  said 
Lieutenant  Stanton,  witli  an  air  of  disap- 
pointment and  almost  of  disgust. 

"  I  hope  I  shall  be  satisfied  with  doing  my 
duty,  uncle,  wherever  it  takes  me  or  keeps 


FRED    LAWRENCE.  37 

me,"  said  Fred,  in  a  voice  that  tried  to  be 
firm. 

"  Oh,  well !  my  boy,  if  you  view  it  in  that 
light,  your  decision  is  a  right  and  noble  one. 
But  tell  me  truly,  would  you  have  chosen 
your  present  employment  if  your  choice  had 
been  perfectly  free — uninfluenced,  I  mean,  by 
any  of  these  motives  ?" 

"Frankly,  uncle,  I  should  not.  I  have 
always  had  a  passion  for  travelling,  and  I 
never  see  a  ship  bound  for  anytvhei'e,  but  I 
wish  I  was  on  board." 

"  There  is  some  sailor  in  him,  after  all," 
said  Uncle  James,  in  delight. 

"  Then,  if  I  were  to  remain  on  land,  I 
should  prefer  some  more^  stirring  employ- 
ment that  would  keep  me  in  the  open  air,  for 
I  never  had  any  great  fancy  for  sitting  still 
from  morning  to  night." 

"  Mere  slavery !  slavery !"  ejaculated  Uncle 
James. 

"  But  I  thought  it  all  carefully  over," 
continued  Fred.  "  It  was  time  I  should  do 
4 


38  FRED   LAWRENCE. 

something,  and  this  seemed  on  the  whole  the 
best  thing  I  could  do  ;  so  now  the  matter  ia 
decided,  I  think  no  more  about  it.  And 
indeed,  I  have  been  quite  happy  and  con- 
tented since  I  have  been  in  business.  I  sup- 
posed, whatever  profession  I  entered,  there 
must  be  a  certain  amount  of  drudgery  at  the 
beginning,  so  I  made  up  my  mind  to  that. 
Then,  I  am  thinking,  that  after  a  few  years, 
when  I  get  rich,  you  know,  I  can  still  have 
time  to  travel  about  and  see  the  world,  as  I 
always  wished  to  do." 

"  Well,  success  to  you,  my  boy,"  said  Uncle 
James,  as  they  parted  at  the  door  of  the 
store.  "  I  should  be  glad  to  help  you  along 
in  my  own  profession  ;  but  do  your  duty 
wherever  you  are,  as  bravely  as  you  have 
begun,  and  you  wfl  not  fail  to  make  a  man 
'in  the  end." 


CHAPTER   VI. 

"  But  deem  not  helm  or  harness 
The  sign  of  valor  true  ; 
Peace  hath  higher  tests  of  manhood 
Thau  battle  ever  knew." 

Whittotr. 

"What   conclusion   did   you  and   Uncle 

James  arrive  at  this  morning?"  inquired 
Mrs.  Lawrence,  as  Fred  entered  the  cozy 
little  sitting-room,  on  his  return  that  even- 
ing. 

"  The  conclusion  was  arrived  at  before  this 
morning,  mother ;  I  have  no  thought  of  spend- 
ing my  life  on  the  water." 

"  You  used  to  have  quite  a  fondness  for 
Bailor  life  and  adventures  when  you  were 
younger.  I  did  not  know  but  it  might  be  a 
trial  to  you  even  now  to  decline  Uncle  James' 
proposal." 

"  Trial  or  not,  mother,  you  know  I  had 
but  one  thing  to  say.     Of  course  I  should 

C39) 


40  FRED    LAWRENCE. 

not  think  twice  whether  I  would  leave  you 
and  Addie  here  alone,  while  I  go  off  wander- 
ing over  the  world." 

"  I  am  sorry  your  plans  for  life  must  be 
limited  for  our  sakes,  my  son." 

"  Oh,  don't  think  it  was  a  disappointment, 
for  really  I  had  given  up  all  thought  of  it 
long  ago.  If  any  one  is  disappointed,  it  is 
Addie  there  ;  for  ever  since  she  heard  Uncle 
James'  plan,  she  has  been  building  air-castles 
for  me  ;  I  see  it  in  her  eyes.  It  would  be  a 
grand  thing,  wouldn't  it,  Addie,  if  I  could 
perform  some  splendid  exploit  for  which  all 
the  world  should  delight  to  honor  me.  Such 
a  brother  would  be  worth  having.  I  am  not 
sure  that  you  would  not  send  me  on  an 
Arctic  exploration  without  mercy,  only  to 
accomplish  that  most  laudable  purpose." 

"  I  should  like  to  be  as  proud  of  you  for  a 
brother,  as  I  am  of  Dr.  Kane  for  a  country 
man." 

"  Your  mother  will  be  as  proud  of  you,  my 
boy,  if  you  do  your  duty  faithfully  wherever 


FEED    LAWRENCE.  41 

Providence  places  you,  as  if  you  went  to  win 
laurels  under  the  poles." 

"  But  Addie  lias  a  great  idea  of  hero-wor- 
ship and  all  such  fancies.  She  has  admitted 
a  new  hero  into  her  pantheon  lately,  by  the 
side  of  Napoleon  and  all  the  rest,  and  just 
now  I  suppose  she  thinks  that  if  I  were  once 
in  the  naval  service  I  should  be  a  full-grown 
Hercules  all  of  a  sudden." 

"  Forgetting,  perhaps,  that  you  would  have 
to  go  through  long  years  of  uninteresting 
toil,  more  tedious  than  your  present  duties." 

"  I  would  not  decline  the  service,  though, 
on  account  of  the  drudgery." 

"No,  certainly,"  replied  his  mother,  "but 
we  do  well  to  make  up  our  minds  at  the  be- 
ginning, that  a  really  honorable  distinction 
is  only  to  be  earned  in  any  course  by  patient 
and  long-continued  exertion.  In  reading 
such  accounts  as  we  have  lately  done,  of  al- 
most superhuman  exploits  and  endurance, 
our  admiration  for  one  heroic  man  is  rather 
naturally  extended  to  the  profession  to  which 


42  FRED    LAWRENCE. 

he  belongs,  and  wc  are  inclined  to  think  that 
the  same  circumstances  would  of  necessity 
produce  the  same  character.  But  the  truth 
is,  a  great  soul  will  find  room  to  exert  itself 
in  the  lowest  and  narrowest  station,  while  a 
small  one  is  not  elevated  into  greatness  by 
mere  position.  Now  let  us  compare  notes. 
What  have  you  admired  most,  my  son,  in  the 
narrative  of  the  Arctic  expedition  ?" 

"  I  hardly  know,  I  like  it  all  so  much  ;  I 
think  it  was  a  splendid  mind  that  could  plan 
and  execute  that  escape  from  the  icebound 
ship.  Think  how  bravely  the  poor  fellows 
worked  through  those  long  weeks,  their  jour, 
ney  of  thirteen  hundred  miles,  among  crush- 
ing, floating  icebergs,  in  open  boats,  just 
ready  to  fall  in  pieces  beneath  them.  But  it 
was  the  one  master-mind  that  inspired  them 
•all." 

"  And  what  do  you  like,  Addie  ?" 
"  The  whole,  of  course ;  but  just  now  I  have 
been  thinking  how  delightful  it  was  to  be  in 
the  midst  of  such  strange  and  splendid  natu- 


FRED    LAWRENCE.  43 

ral  phenomena,  and  to  learn  so  many  things 
that  had  never  been  known  before.  One 
would  have  so  much  to  remember,  his  whole 
life  would  be  the  richer  for  such  scenes 
passed  through.  But,  mother,  you  have 
not  told  us  what  you  admire  most  in  the 
story." 

"  I  think  the  noblest  thing  in  the  whole 
narration,  is  that  which  after  all  does  not 
distinguish  it  from  the  record  of  any  truly 
noble  life.  I  mean  the  sclf-forgetfulness 
with  which  a  mind  so  capable  of  the  highest 
achievements,  gave  itself  up  to  the  most 
msnial  services,  when  the  necessities  of  others 
required  it ;  spending  time  and  strength  in 
the  midst  of  wonders  which,  as  an  ardent 
student  of  nature,  he  longed  to  explore,  in 
ministering  to  the  common  waivts  of  those 
committed  to  his  care." 

"  That  «eems  to  me,"  said  Addie,  "  the  sad- 
dest thing  in  the  whole  story.  So  much  was 
lost,  which  the  world  can  never  regain." 

"  It  is  no  small  thing,"  replied  her  mother, 


44  FRED    LAWRENCE. 

"  to  have  given  so  noble  an  example  of  self 
sacrifice.  The  world  is  not  destitute  of 
strong  and  cultivated  minds,  and  the  results 
of  their  labors  are  constantly  increasing  the 
treasures  of  science.  But  of  these  higher 
moral  traits,  we  have  few  models.  And  what 
most  interests  us  is,  that  this  kind  of  heroism 
is  not  confined  to  any  profession  or  circum- 
stances in  life.  The  same  degree  of  self-sac- 
rifice for  the  general  good,  would  be  equally 
noble  in  the  most  obscure  station,  though  it 
might  not  become  equally  known  and  honor 
ed.  There  may  be  more  heroism  in  perform- 
ing faithfully  the  humblest  duties  of  life,  than 
in  maintaining  command  of  men,  or  battling 
with  the  elements  of  nature." 

"  Could  every  one  be  as  great  as  those  we 
read  of?"  said  Addie,  musingly. 

"  Every  one  could,  if  every  one  had  the  will 
to  be,"  replied  her  mother.  "  One  thing  is 
certain,  there  can  be  no  cheating  in  this  mat- 
ter ;  a  strong  and  efficient  el  aracter  is  not  to 
be  obtained  for  less  than  its  just  equivalent 


FRED   LAWRENCE.  45 

in  years  of  effort.  And  after  all,  it  is  the 
being  great,  and  not  the  distinction  it  may 
confer,  that  should  be  the  object  of  our  desire. 
We  must  learn  to  act  rightly  and  nobly, 
without  listening  for  the  echo  of  our  actions 
in  the  applause  of  men  " 


CHAPTER    VII 

u  Direct  not  him  whoso  way  himself  w,ll  choose." 

"  Where  going,  Lawrence?"  exclaimed 
two  of  his  companions,  taking  either  arm,  as 
they  emerged  from  the  store. 

"  Home,"  said  Fred. 

"  '  Home,'  as  usual,  but  what  for  just  now  ?:' 

"  Supper,"  said  Fred,  smiling. 

"  Oh,  plio  !  Isn't  there  supper  enough  to 
be  had  this  side  the  river  ?  Come,  go  with 
us  this  evening,  and  we  will  have  rare  spore. 
We'll  go  to  Dclinonico's  for  a  stew,  and  ther. 
to  Wallack's." 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Fred,  "  I  would  rathe. 
not  go  to-night.  I  never  go  to  the  theatre 
and  it  lias  no  great  attractions  for  me." 

"  Oli !  you  arc  afraid  it  isn't  right,  pei 
hstps,"  said  Jones,  with  a  sneer. 

"  I  have  not  yet  mentioned  my  reasons  for 

not  going,"  said  Fred,  "but,  .since  ^ju  wish 
(46)  • 


FRED   LAWRENCE.  47 

to  know  them,  I  "«  ill  tell  you  that  I  have 
better  employment  for  my  evenings,  and  so  it 
would  be  a  waste  of  time  to  spend  them  in 
that  way." 

"  Wonderfully  economical  I"  said  Jones. 
?  How  much  does  time  bring  per  hour  ?" 

"  But  I  have  a  better  reason  than  that,' 
continued  Fred ;  "  I  think  it  positively  wrong, 
at  least,  whatever  it  may  be  for  others,  it 
would  certainly  be  wrong  for  me." 

"  Pshaw!  hear  the  fellow!"  said  Jones ;  "he 
is  wise  as  Solomon,  and  preaches  like  a  par- 
son. But  I  see  the  reason  of  it  all.  He  is  a 
mother-boy,  and  afraid  to  be  out  till  twelve 
o'clock  at  night." 

"Come,  don't  be  a  fool, Fred,"  said  the  other 
clerk,  persuasively  ;  "  you  don't  know  what 
you  lose  by  being  so  particular.  Those  that 
ought  to  know,  say  that  the  drama  is  an 
important  means  of  instruction,  and  you 
can't  understand  the  beauties  of  a  play  till 
you  have  seen  it  well  acted." 

"X   am  not    literary   enough    yet,"    said 


48  FRED   LAWRENCE. 

Fred,  '•  to  need  the  drama.  Wnen  I  hare 
read  more  I  may  perhaps  consider  the  sub- 
ject. At  present  I  am  really  afraid  I  should 
not  be  qualified  to  appreciate  it." 

"Now,  don't  be  making  reflections."  said 
Jones,  maliciously.  "  Everybody  knows,  yon 
set  up  to  be  a  great  deal  wiser  than  vonr 
neighbors." 

"  But  don't  you  know,"  said  the  other 
clerk,  more  pleasantly,  that  there  are  many 
good  people — ministers,  too,  among  the  rest-- 
who  think  it  is  right  and  profitable  to  attend 
the  theatre  ?  Now,  I  don't  see  any  use  in 
being  more  strict  than  ministers  themselves." 

"  I  think  a  very  great  majority  of  ministers 
and  good  people  are  of  the  contrary  opinion," 
Fred  replied.  "  But  if  it  were  not  so,  minis- 
ters are  only  men,  and  may  possibly  be  mis- 
taken, as  well  as  others." 

"  Well,"  said  Willis,  persuasively,  "  if  you 
don't  go  to  be  profited,  go  for  the  sake  oi 
being  like  other  people  for  once  in  your 
life." 


FRED   LAWKCNCE.  49 

"  I  am  as  much  obliged  for  jour  invitation, 
Willis,  as  if  I  accepted  it,"  replied  Fred, 
"  but  really  I  prefer  not  to  go.  I  know  of 
no  very  good  reason  for  doing  everything 
that  other  people  do.  I  see  a  thousand 
things  done  every  clay  that  I  don't  feel 
obliged  to  mimic,  and  this  is  one." 

"Oh,  you  are  a  great  deal  better  than 
your  neighbors,"  said  Jones,  contemptuously. 
"  I  am  sorry  we  have  offended  your  saint- 
ship — I  wish  you  a  safe  journey  home,  and 
hope  you  will  find  ma  and  sister  well." 

"I  have  not  compared  myself  with  my 
neighbors,"  said  Frederic,  without  deigning 
to  notice  Jones'  last  remark.  "  A  pleasant 
evening  to  you." 

5 


CHAPTER    VIII. 

« Desire  not  to  live  ong,  but  to  live  well  j 
How  long  we  live,  not  years,  but  actions  tell." 

Three  years  had  passed  away  with  but 
few  remarkable  incidents  in  the  life  of  our 
young  man  of  business.  Without  becoming 
a  slave  to  his  daily  employments,  tlieii" 
routine  had  become  so  habitual  that  it  was 
no  longer  a  burden,  and  his  mind  was  re- 
deemed from  the  stupefying  effects  of  a 
monotonous  round  of  business,  by  his  en- 
thusiasm for  intellectual  pursuits.  As  he 
advanced  year  by  year  in  his  salary,  he 
assumed  more  and  more  of  the  maintenance 
of  the  family,  so  that  he  began  to  feel  in 
reality,  what  he  had  long  aspired  to  in 
fancy,  the  solid  satisfaction  of  being  a  stay 
and  support  to  his  mother. 

"  What  makes  you  so  sober  lately,  Fred?" 
asked  Addie,  lfying    hei    head   upon    his 

(60) 


FRED    LAWRENCE.  51 

shoulder,  one  evening,  as  they  sat  together 
on  the  sofa.  "  Have  '  we'  failed,  or  what 
has  happened  ?" 

"  What  little  bird  has  revealed  to  you  a 
secret  that  is  not  known  yet  in  Wall  street?" 
said  Fred,  with  an  attempt  at  a  smile. 

"  Can  it  be  I  was  right  ? — do  tell  me, 
Fred." 

"Well,  I  suppose  it  must  be  generally 
known  to-morrow,  so  I  may  as  well  mention 
it  now.  Our  firm  is  on  the  verge  of  bank- 
ruptcy ;  the  confidential  clerk  has  left,  this 
week,  in  circumstances  that  now  begin  to  look 
suspicious.  To-day  there  came  in  a  demand 
from  the  bank  where  we  deposit  the  most, 
for  an  enormous  sum,  which  I  more  than  sus- 
pect he  must  have  drawn  in  the  name  of  the 
firm.  Just  in  the  present  state  of  things 
there  is  no  help  or  delay  for  it ;  they  must 
break." 

"How  will  this  effect  you?"  inquired 
Addie,  anxiously,  after  a  pause. 

"  Just  in  this  way  ;  that  I  am  thrown  out 


52  FRED    LAWRENCE. 

of  employment  at  a  time  when  more  than 
half  the  firms  are  retrenching  operations  on 
account  of  scarcity  in  the  money-market.  I 
know  several  clerks  that  have  been  dismissed 
lately  from  situations  where  they  were  giving 
perfect  satisfaction  ;  so  you  can  imagine  the 
chances  are  very  small  for  my  forming  a 
new  engagement." 

"Ah,  well!  there  is  nothing  to  do  but 
li '  trust  and  try,'"  said  Addie,  hopefully. 
"  I  was  going  to  ask  you  another  thing,  Fred, 
or  rather,  tell  you,  for  my  mind  is  made  up, 
and  I  shall  not  ask  your  consent.  I  want  to 
begin  teaching  this  spring." 

'•  Oh !  so  you  are  growing  too  wise  for  a 
scholar,  and  must  begin  to  impart  your  sur- 
plus wisdom." 

"  Now,  don't  laugh  at  me,  Fred.  I  think 
1  am  old  enough  to  teach,  and  Charley 
Mason  says  I  have  grown  wonderfully  dig- 
nified of  late." 

"  Indeed !  Has  Charley  Mason  come  in 
wllis,ton  wit/i  your  dignity,  pray  ?  " 


FRED    LAWRENCE.  53 

"Of  course  not,  you  silly  boy  !  But  1 
took  it  as  an  encouragement,  you  kaow,  and 
really  I  think  I  could  sustain  very  well  the 
dignity  of  a  teacher.  Mr.  Seymour  has 
offered  me  the  charge  of  his  primary  depart- 
ment, and  I  have  told  him  that  I  will  com- 
mence with  the  next  term." 

"  But  I  cannot  bear  to  have  you  give  up 
your  studies  now.  When  I  had  to  leave 
school  myself,  I  resolved  that  you  should 
stay  as  long  as  you  wanted  to,  at  least  if 
any  efforts  of  mine  could  bring  it  about." 

"  You  are  a  dear,  good  brother.  But, 
suppose  I  have  stayed  as  long  as  I  want  to  ? 
You  know  yourself,  Fred,  that  it  is  not 
necessary  to  give  up  study  when  one  leaves 
school.  If  you  could  accomplish  as  much  as 
you  have  done,  occupied  the  whole  day  ia 
the  store,  you  shall  not  think  me  so  stupid 
that  I  cannot  make  some  improvement  be- 
side teaching  five  hours  a  day." 

"  Well,  have  it  as  you  will,  since  you  are 
of  those  who  are  born  to  command.    There 


54  FRED   LAWRENCE. 

is  one  thing. — we  can  study  together  and  help 
each  other  along." 

"Yes,  I  doubt  not  we  shall  'help  each 
ether  along,'  as  the  fly  said  to  the  loco- 
motive. That  reminds  me,  Fred,  I  want 
you  to  teach  me  Greek." 

"  Certainly,  I  should  lore  to  have  you 
learn  it,  and  then  we  can  read  it  together." 

"  There,  I  am  glad  there  is  one  sensible 
brother  in  the  world.  I  should  have  studied 
Greek  before  this  at  school,  but  when  I  pro- 
posed it,  Mr.  Seymour  looked  as  quizzical  as 
if  I  had  asked  for  a  cardinal's  hat.  Then 
the  girls  laughed  at  me,  as  if  I  was  medi- 
tating the  most  eccentric  thing  in  the  world  ; 
so  I  was  discouraged." 

"  You  must  not  be  frightened,  soreUina,  at 
the  laugh  of  any  one,  from  doing  Avhat  your 
own  good  sense  tells  you  it  is  perfectly 
right  and  proper  for  you  to  do.  For  my 
part,  I  can  see  no  objection  to  any  man  or 
woman  learning  anything  they  please  ;  espe- 
cially a  splen  lid  language  like  the  Greek." 


FRED   IAWRENCE.  55 

"  I  know  I  shall  love  it,"  exclaimed  Addie, 
with  enthusiasm.  "  But,  Fred,  why  is  it 
considered  so  oul  of  the  way  for  ladies  to 
learn  Greek  ?  It  seems  to  me  fully  as  use- 
ful as  half  the  studies  that  are  deemed  essen- 
tial to  a  finished  education." 

"  Yes,  and  more  so  than  many  of  them/' 
said  Fred,  "  for  it  assists  us  greatly  in  the 
study  of  the  Bible  ;  and  anything  that  will 
render  the  meaning  of  that  deeper  or  clearer 
to  us,  should  take  the  precedence  of  mere 
secular  knowledge.  Besides,  it  is  no  more 
difficult  than  many  things  that  almost  every 
body  studies." 

"  It  will  be  delightful  to  study  at  home 
with  you,"  said  Addie.  "  I  shall  enjoy  it  far 
more  than  I  have  at  school,  for  now  I  shall 
feel  that  I  am  helping  you  and  mother  a 
little." 

•'  It  has  been  my  ambition  for  these  three 
years,"  said  Fred,  "  to  earn  enough  for  our 
entire  support,  so  that  you  and  mother  would 
not  need  to  work  ' 


56  FEED   LAWRENCE. 

"  And  it  is  mine,"  Addie  replied,  "  to  work 
and  help  you,  so  that  mother  can  rest.  There 
is  no  reason  why  I  should  be  a  consumer 
and  not  a  producer,  as  the  political  econo- 
mists say." 

"  Only,"  said  Fred,  half  unconsciously,  as 
he  stroked  her  sunny  curls,  "  that  it  seems 
as  if  you  were  made  like  birds  and  flowers, 
not  to  toil  and  spin,  but  to  live  and  be  beau- 
tiful." 

"  And  be  a  lazy  drone,  while  the  others 
work  and  are  useful.  For  shame !  Mr.  Flat- 
terer, to  teach  me  such  a  lesson.  No,  no ! 
you  have  given  me  a  good  example  all  these 
years,  now  you  must  help  me  to  follow  it. 
I  will  be  a  worker  as  well  as  you,  and  our 
mother  shall  be  the  queen  bee  to  preside  in 
our  hive." 


CHAPTER   IX. 

A  shock,  sudden  as  that  of  an  earthquake, 
had  arrested  the  movement  of  the  company 
by  which  Lawrence  was  employed.  It  fell 
like  at  hunderbolt  upon  Mr.  Brown,  the  chief 
active  member  of  the  firm.  Remarkable  for 
caution  in  his  commercial  operations,  failure 
had  been  deemed  for  him  utterly  impossible  ; 
but  the  defalcation  of  his  head  clerk,  and  a 
combination  of  circumstances  beyond  his  own 
control,  had  involved  his  affairs  in  hopeless 
confusion,  and  the  wealth  accumulated  in  a 
whole  lifetime  was  swept  from  his  grasp  in 
an  hour. 

The  calamity  was  too  great  for  his  physi- 
cal energies.  Riches  had  been  the  hope, 
I  he  treasure,  the  idol  of  his  soul,  and  these 
gone,  life  was  stripped  of  all  its  attractions. 
A  violent  fever  prd  stratedhim  during  several 
(57) 


58  FRED    LAWRENCE. 

weeks,  and  the  settlement  must  be  effected 
without  his  assistance.  The  other  partners 
in  the  firm  had  not  for  years  held  an  active 
part  in  the  business,  nor  could  they  easily 
take  up  and  unravel  the  tangled  web  of 
affairs  at  their  present  crisis.  The  only 
clerk  perfectly  acquainted  with  the  condition 
of  things  was  just  then  a  resident  of  "  parts 
unknown  ;"  so  that  the  weight  of  duty  fell 
on  Lawrence.  Though  young,  he  had  al- 
ready proved  himself  both  faithful  and  com- 
petent ;  and  his  employers  were  not  now 
disappointed  in  the  confidence  they  reposed 
in  him. 

Five  weeks,  more  crowded  than  ever  with 
intense  application,  weighed  heavily  upon  the 
energies  of  the  young  clerk,  while  the  uncer- 
tainty of  obtaining  another  situation  when 
this  should  fail,  presented  not  the  brightest 
prospect  to  his  anticipations. 

But  "  there's  a  divinity  that  shapes  our 
ends,"  and  in  following  earnestly  and  patient 
ly  the  path  of  duty,  we  need  not  to  see  the 


FRED   LAWRENCE.  59 

way  before  us.  That  path  is  sure  to  "  lead  us 
out  into  a  large  place,  set  our  feet  on  a  rock, 
and  establish  our  goings." 

"  Who  is  that  young  man  who  is  balancing 
the  accounts  of  Smith,  Brown  &  Co.  ?"  asked 
Mr.  Silver,  of  his  son  and  partner.  Silver 
&  Sons  were  among  the  principal  creditors 
of  the  insolvent  firm,  and  had  kept  a  shrewd 
lookout  during  the  settlement  of  affairs. 

"  Lawrence,  I  believe  his  name  is,"  replied 
the  son  ;,  "  very  young,  isn't  he  ?" 

"  Hardly  twenty  I  should  think,  but  I  tell 
you  he  lias  a  wise  head  on  young  shoulders. 
He  has  been  their  principal  book-keeper,  they 
tell  me,  for  more  than  a  year  back,  and  I  cer- 
tainly never  saw  books  better  kept." 

"Answer  our  turn,  when  Warren  leaves?'" 

"  Precisely,  I  think  ;  I  have  watched  his 
movements  more  than  he  is  aware  of,  and  it 
is  my  opinion  that  we  should  look  far  to  find 
a  better  one.," 

"  We  don't  need  him  for  a  month  yet." 

"No,  but  we  had  better  secure  him  at 


60  FRED   LAWRENCE 

once,"  said  Silver,  senior,  with  a  sudden  fit 
of  liberality.  "  We  had  better  not  lose  him, 
and  we  can  find  employment  for  him  as  soon 
as  he  has  finished  his  present  business." 

As  the  result  of  this  dialogue,  Frederic 
Lawrence  received  an  offer  of  the  situation 
as  book-keeper  in  Silver  &  Sons'  large  estab- 
lishment, with  an  increased  salary.  The 
offer  was  far  more  eligible  than  he  could 
even  have  hoped  in  the  circumstances,  and 
had  great  effect  in  raising  his  spirits  and  re- 
moving the  transient  solicitude  which  had 
weighed  upon  his  mind. 

Mr.  Silver  the  father  was  recognized  on 
'Change  as  a  "  large  importer."  His  mag- 
nitude certainly  was  not  physical,  for  he  was 
a  short,  spare  little  figure,  that  looked  as  if 
it  had  shrivelled  up  as  mummies  do,  even 
from  its  original  diminutive  proportions. 
The  most  noticeable  feature  of  his  face  was  a 
remarkably  acuminated  nose.  This  is  said 
to  be  a  token  of  business  capacity  ;  whether 
serving  as  a  wedge  to  penetrate  through  the 


FRED    ^AWfwENCE.  61 

pressure  of  affairs,  or  for  some  other  pjrpose, 
physiological  science  does  not  inform  us. 

Nor  could  magnitude  of  soul  have  been  as- 
cribed to  the  importer,  for  no  philosopher  from 
Socrates  to  Spurzheim  would  have  found  evi- 
dence in  conduct  or  cranium  of  a  redundan- 
cy of  that  quality.  The  largeness  intended 
must  have  been  a  commercial  figure  of  speech, 
applying  to  the  man  a  term  that  belonged  only 
to  liis  boxes  and  bales  and  importation  lists. 
It  was  not  so  great  a  mistake  after  all,  for 
these  were  his  treasures,  and  on  these  was 
his  heart  also. 

Mr.  Silver,  the  father,  was  not  only  the 
oldest  partner,  but  decidedly  the  moving 
spirit  in  the  firm.  His  sons  performed  their 
stipulated  share  in  the  business,  received 
their  dividends,  and  thanked  their  stars  that 
the  senior  partner  had  force  enough  to  move 
the  whole  machinery  without  interference 
from  them :  looking  forward  with  quite  as 
much  satisfaction  as  regret,  to  the  time  when  a 
general  dividend  should  be  made  of  all  the 
G 


62  FRED   LAWRENCE. 

hoarded  accumulations  of  the  old  man's  life. 
To  our  Fred,  the  change  was  in  many  re- 
spects a  favorable  one.  He  became  ac- 
quainted with  business  on  a  larger  scale,  and 
his  general  intelligence  proportionally  in- 
creased. The  rigid  exactness  which  was  re- 
quired in  the  performance  of  all  his  duties, 
had  already  become  a  habit,  and  agreed  well 
with  the  rule  which  he  had  proposed  to  him- 
self from  the  beginning. 

The  standard  of  integrity  in  the  external 
dealings  of  the  firm,  was  not  indeed  quite  as 
high  as  that  which  he  had  been  led  from 
early  instruction  to  adopt ;  for  the  golden 
rule  of  commerce  seems  to  be,  "  Do  unto 
others  as  you  expect  them  to  do  to  you,"  not 
"  as  you  would  have  them  do."  Still,  in  the 
discharge  of  his  own  duties,  the  two  rules  of 
conduct  seldom  came  in  collision,  for,  how 
ever  men  may  disregard  the  higher  law  of 
God  in  their  own  actions,  few  would  dis- 
pense with  the  observance  of  it  in  those  who 
have  dealings  with  them. 


CHAPTER    X 

"Ay,  sir;  to  be  honest,  as  this  world  goes, 
Is  to  be  one  picked  out  often  thousand." 

Frederic  had  been  but  a  few  mcnths  in 
nis  new  situation,  when  Mr.  Silver  said  to 
him,  one  morning — 

"  Smith  is  sick  and  off  duty,  Lawrence ; 
you  will  therefore  have  to  go  down  to  the 
custom-house  and  certify  this  invoice." 

"  Yes,  sir,"  said  Frederic,  promptly,  taking 
the  bill  and  glancing  over  it.  But  in  a 
moment  he  added,  with  some  surprise — 

"  There  is  a  mistake  here,  Mr.  Silver ;  I 
credited,  yesterday,  three  hundred  pieces  of 
black  silk,  and  there  are  but  two  hundred 
and  fifty  on  the  invoice." 

"Well,  what  then?" 

"  I  will  rectify  it,  shall  I  not  V 

"  No,  sir,  no  ;  it  is  all  right,  you  will  pass 
't  just  as  it  is." 

(63) 


64  FRED   LAWRENCE. 

"  But  I  cannot  understand  how  it  is  right, 
sir,"  said  Frederic,  respectfully.  "  We  cer- 
tainly owe  duties  on  all  the  goods  imported; 
and  either  the  firm  in  Lyons  have  over- 
charged, or  this  copy  of  the  invoice  is  incor- 
rect." 

"  That  is  my  business,  sir ;  yours  is  to 
obey  orders." 

"  But  not  to  disobey  my  conscience,  Mr. 
Silver,"  replied  Frederic,  beginning  to  per- 
ceive the  truth  of  the  matter. 

"  Your  conscience  has  nothing  to  do  in  the 
case,"  said  the  merchant,  whose  cracked 
voice  betrayed  the  rising  of  angry  passions. 
"  The  business  is  mine  :  if  you  are  not  pre- 
pared to  perform  the  service  required,  there 
is  but  one  alternative.     Will  you  go  ?" 

"Not  to  swear  to  an  untruth,  sir,"  said 
Frederic,  firmly. 

"  Yery  well,  you  know  the  consequence." 

Fred  returned  to  his  desk  with  a  heavy 
heart.  Must  he  {gain  be  thrown  out  of 
employment,  when  liis  cherished  plans  were 


FRED   LAWRENCE.  65 

apparently  so  near  fulfilment?  Though  he 
applied  himself  more  closely  than  ever  to  his 
task,  troublesome  questions  were  continually 
passing  through  his  mind.  Had  he  not,  after 
all,  been  too  conscientious?  Was  it  his 
business  to  question  the  honesty  of  an  act, 
performed  merely  for  the  interest  01 
another  ?  If  he  was  employed  as  an 
instrument  in  doing  a  wrong  thing,  was  the 
fault  in  the  instrument,  or  in  the  person  who 
employed  it?  "In  both,"  conscience  replied, 
"  since  the  instrument  has  a  will  of  its  own, 
and  is  capable  of  discriminating  right  from 
wrong."  "  I  will  not  be  anybody's  tool  for 
wrong-doing,"  added  self-respect.  "  I  am 
not  a  slave,  to  be  bought  for  five  hundred 
a-ycar,  subject,  body  and  soul,  mind  and 
strength,  to  the  use  of  another.  For  a  just 
equivalent,  I  will  sell  a  certain  amount  ol 
time  and  energy,  but  not  my  conscience. 
No,  I  have  learned  to  be  poor,  and  I  am 
little  afraid  of  poverty,  but  I  dare  not  walk 
God's  earth  with  the  brand  of  perjury  upon 
6* 


66  FRED   LAWRENCE. 

me."  He  worked  on  with  more  than  usual 
diligence,  to  bring  up  some  little  arrears, 
and  leave  his  accounts  exactly  balanced  with 
that  Saturday  night. 

When  the  clerks  received  their  week's 
wages,  Mr.  Silver,  senior,  had  left  the  store, 
and  nothing  was  said  by  his  son  of  Law- 
rence's dismission.  Not  knowing  whether 
the  incident  of  the  morning  was  known  to 
him,  Frederic  took  no  other  leave  than  a 
polite  '  Good  evening.' 

He  had  resolved  not  to  disturb  the  Sab- 
bath tranquillity  at  home  by  anxiety  about 
his  own  affairs,  and  therefore  forebore  to 
mention  to  his  mother  and  sister  what  had 
happened.  Whatever  uneasiness  might  have 
remained  upon  his  mind  passed  away  with 
the  quiet  cheerfulness  of  the  Sabbath,  and 
the  encouragement  its  instructions  afforded. 
Worldly  troubles  lost  their  power  to  annoy  ; 
the  peace  of  a  quiet  conscience  seemed  more 
valuable  than  the  highest  earthly  pros 
perity  ;  the  conflict  of  principles  was  ended. 


FRED   LAWRENCE.  G1 

On  Monday  morning  Frederic  went  a 
little  later  than  usual  to  his  place  of  busi- 
ness. 

"  I  have  called,  Mr.  Silver,"  said  he,  ap- 
proaching the  desk  where  that  gentleman 
was  already  seated,  "  to  inquire  if  you  have 
any  further  need  of  my  services." 
.  Whether  the  influences  of  the  Sabbath  had 
aroused  a  higher  moral  sense,  or  whether, 
when  the  momentary  irritation  had  subsided, 
his  judgment  had  suggested  that  conscience 
was  not,  after  all,  the  worst  quality  that 
could  be  possessed  by  a  confidential  clerk, 
the  mind  of  Mr.  Silver  was  in  quite  a  differ- 
ent state  this  morning  from  that  in  which  it 
had  been  two  days  before. 

"  As  much  need  as  usual,"  he  replied 
briefly,  but  with  a  smile  that  was  almost 
benevolent. 

"  From  your  remarks  on  Saturday  morn- 
ing," said  Frederic,  "I  inferred  that  you 
intended  making  a  change  of  book-keepers." 

"  You  were  mistaken  then,  Lawrence.    I 


68  FRED    LAWEENCE. 

desire  that  you  will  retain  your  situation, 
and  continue  to  discharge  its  duties  as  faith- 
fully as  you  have  done  hitherto." 

Mr.  Silver  was  far  enough  from  being 
addicted  to  flattery  ;  and  if  rarity  is  any  test 
of  value,  a  word  of  praise  from  him  was  well 
worth  a  two  hours'  eulogy  from  a  more  com- 
municative person.  From  that  day  Frederic 
Lawrence  advanced  rapidly  in  the  esteem 
and  confidence  of  his  employers.  His  in- 
tegrity, severely  tried,  and  not  found  want- 
ing, in  a  case  evidently  contrary  to  his  own 
interests,  had  proved  him  worthy  of  the 
most  unbounded  trust 


CHAPTER    XI. 

Walking  his  round  of  duty 

Serenely  day  by  day  ; 
With  a  strong  man's  arm  of  labor 

And  childhood's  heart  of  play." 

WuiTriu. 

As  he  advanced  in  business,  our  hero  had 
not  lost  his  interest,  nor  remitted  his  dili- 
gence in  study.  In  the  four  years  after 
leaving  school  he  had  read  many  of  the 
Greek  and  Latin  authors  included  in  the 
ordinary  collegiate  course ;  and  this  not  as 
a  self-imposed  task,  but  from  a  real  love  of 
those  noble  languages,  and  a  cordial  appre- 
ciation of  their  beauties.  He  was  not  in 
that  social  position  which  demands  a  show 
of  refined  taste,  with  or  without  the  reality  ; 
and  therefore  his  enjoyment  of  the  riches  of 
literature  had  a  freshness  and  strength  un- 
tainted by  affectation.  The  influence  of  such 
studies,  pursued  wifcl    hearty  interest,  could 

m 


70  FRED   LAWRENCE. 

not  but  be  felt  in  liberalizing  and  enriching 
the  mind. 

He  had  studied  several  of  the  natural 
ftciences,  one  after  another,  and  during  the 
warmer  months  employed  many  a  pleasant 
half  holiday,  earned  by  extra  diligence,  in 
long  walks  into  the  country  for  the  collection 
of  specimens  ;  thus  by  the  same  means  gain- 
ing three  important  ends :  health,  amuse- 
ment, and  instruction. 

As  his  mind  thus  grew  and  strengthened, 
by  its  appropriate  food,  he  found  many  things 
to  minister  to  his  happiness ;  life  seemed 
larger,  and  more  full  of  interest ;  in  his  soul 
there  was  that  fulness  of  conscious  life  and 
energy  which  alone  is  capable  of  realizing 
the  truth,  "  To  be  living,  is  sublime." 

Those  persons  cannot  be  conscious  of  the 
loss  they  sustain  who  expend  the  energies  of 
life  upon  empty  amusements,  which  con- 
tribute nothing  to  the  growth  of  the  mental 
powers.  Seeking  happiness  only,  they  cramp 
and  restrain  those  very  faculties  in  thera 


FRED   LAWRENCE.  71 

which  are  most  capable  of  happiness,  and 
thus  disappoint  themselves. 

One  day  in  July — it  was  one  month  more 
than  four  years  since  Fred  had  left  school — 
he-  received  an  unexpected  call  from  his  old 
friend  and  classmate,  Charles  Mason.  Their 
friendship  had  not  been  interrupted  through 
the  years  that  had  separated  them  ;  the  col- 
lege vacation  had  always  brought  them 
together  ;  and  a  frequent  and  familiar 
correspondence  had  kept  each  quite  well 
acquainted  with  the  other's  affairs. 

"  So  you  have  got  through  college  at  last, 
Charley.  Graduated  as  well  as  you  ex- 
pected?" 

"  Yes,  because  I  did  not  expect  very  much. 
I  can  tell  you,  Fred,  I  am  mortally  glad  to 
be  out  of  the  scrape." 

"  Well,  what  will  you  do  next?" 

"  Travel,  I  suppose.  Father  wants  me  to 
go  to  Europe  for  a  few  months.  He  thinks 
it  will  improve  my  mind,  and  be  good  for 
my  health,  and  all  that  sort  of  thing.    Father 


72  FRED   LAWRENCE. 

gees  on  business  to  England  in  the  next 
steamer,  and  I  suppose  I  shall  go  too.  He 
will  go  with  me  as  far  as  Paris,  and  then 
leave  me  to  pursue  my  journey  alone." 

"  It  will  be  splendid.  I  half  envy  you, 
Charley." 

"How  I  wish  you  were  going  with  me, 
Fred.  That  is  all  that's  lacking  to  make 
me  want  to  go." 

"  Well,  my  time  will  come  by  and  by. 
Perhaps  we  will  go  together  some  day,  after 
all.  I  should  like  it  grandly,  of  course,  but 
I  have  learned  to  do  without  some  of  the 
pleasant  things." 

"That  you  have,  Fred,  and  nobly,  too. 
But  it  must  be  confessed  you  get  along 
wonderfully  well  without  these  'pleasant 
things,'  as  you  call  them.  You  are  more  of  a 
man  now,  after  your  four  years  of  work  and 
study,  mixed  together,  than  I  am  with  all 
the  means  of  improvement  that  old  Yale 
could  afford." 

"  You  are  altogether  too  subject  to  the 


FRED    LAWRENCE.  73 

blues,  Charley.  You  never  will  value  your 
privileges  as  I  have  been  trying  to  make 
you  do  for  the  last  four  years.  Whatever 
you  may  say,  looking  on  the  dark  side,  as 
you  do  now,  it  is,  and  must  be,  a  great 
advantage  to  devote  four  of  your  best  years, 
uninterrupted  by  business  cares,  to  the  work 
of  preparing  yourself  for  life.  I  could  make 
out  a  '  shady  side,'  too,  rather  darker  than 
yours  ;  only  I  don't  fancy  it  quite  so  well  as 
the  bright  one." 

"It  would  be  strange  to  hear  you  com 
plaining  of  anything,  Fred." 

"  I  don't  mean  to  complain,  but  you  can 
eee  there  is  a  great  deal  lost  by  going 
through  life  in  such  a  hurry  as  I  am  obliged 
to  be  in.  It  seems  to  me  I  have  come  into 
the  world  of  action,  and  am  going  through 
it  like  a  ball  out  of  a  cannon." 

"  You  do  more  execution,  at  all  events, 
Fred,  than  if  you  rolled  through  life  like  a 
ten-pin  ball,  one  that  had  lost  its  way  at 
that    But  I  have  not  inquired  after   your 

n 


74  FRED   LAWRENCE. 

mother  and  sister — are  they  well,  as  usual? 
I  may  call  and  see  you  all,  mayn't  I,  before 
I  go?" 

"  Happy  to   see  you  any   time,  Charley 
We  are  all  well  at  home." 


CHAPTER    XII. 

fliore's  a  divinity  that  shapes  our  ends." 

Hamlst. 

It  was  not  many  weeks  after  the  above 
'•-onversation  that  Frederic  Lawrence  was 
summoned  to  a  special  conference  with  bis 
employer.  This  was  no  unusual  thing,  for 
the  old  man  was  becoming  unusually  com 
raunicative  as  age  increased  upon  him.  Per- 
haps he  wished  that  Frederic  should  become 
acquainted  with  all  his  plans  for  the  manage- 
ment of  the  business,  before  he  was  obliged 
to  leave  his  earthly  employments ;  at  all 
events  he  found  in  him  a  more  intelligent 
-listener  than  in  either  of  his  sons.  For  them 
it  was  enougli  if  affairs  moved  on  with 
the  usual  results  to  themselves ;  they  took 
little  interest  in  the  details.  But  this  time 
Mr.  Silver  had  a  more  definite  object  in 
/  i\f. 

(75) 


76  FRED   LAWRENCE. 

"  I  wish  to  make  a  proposition,"  said  he. 
as  Frederic  entered  the  office.  "  Have  you 
any  objection  to  a  trip  to  Europe  ?" 

"  Not  tbe  slightest,  sir,"  replied  Fred,  with 
a  quiet  smile. 

"  I  am  too  old  to  make  the  journey 
myself,"  continued  the  merchant,  "  and 
neither  of  my  sons  feels  inclined  to  go  this 
time  ;  but  I  think  you  can  transact  the  busi- 
ness as  well  as  any  one  else.  You  speak 
French,  I  believe  ?" 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"Le  Brun  tells  me  you  speak  it  like  a 
native ;  and  though  he  would  like  the  trip 
for  himself,  I  suppose,  I  am  much  more 
inclined  to  intrust  the  affair  to  you.  The 
business  is  this  : — The  firm  in  Paris  of  whom 
we  have  imported  all  our  shawls,  have 
failed,  and  arrangements  are  to  be  made 
with  a  new  one.  I  have  not  decided  between 
two  or  three  houses ;  I  leave  that  to  your 
discretion.  Then  I  wish  to  arrange  for  a 
larger  importation  of  silk  fabrics  next  year, 


FRED   LAWRENCE.  77 

which  must  come  partly  from  Lyons  and 
partly  from  Leghorn.  You  had  better  go 
direct  to  Paris,  from  there  south,  and  return 
oy  the  Leghorn  steamer.  Allowing  three 
or  four  weeks  in  Europe,  which  will  be 
enough  to  transact  all  the  business,  you  need 
not  be  absent  more  than  six  or  eight  weeks. 
How  soon  can  you  be  ready  to  start  ?" 

"  The  Havre  steamer  sails  day  after  to- 
morrow.    I  can  be  ready  then,  sir." 

"  That's  right  —  that's  right !  Be  always 
prompt  and  ready,  and  you  are  sure  to  suc- 
ceed in  life." 

Frederic  bowed  and  withdrew.  He  felt 
very  much  like  swinging  his  hat  and  shouting 
"  Hurrah,"  as  he  hastened  home  to  announce 
his  departure.  He  should  see  Europe,  after 
all !  the  object  of  his  boyish  dreams,  the 
scene  of  so  many  fancied  adventures.  To 
be  sure,  this  was  only  a  business  trip  ;  but 
all  of  life  seemed  very  like  a  hurried  business 
journey  to  him ;  and  yet  he  had  contrived 
to  pick  up  some  impr  {tvement  and  diversion 
7* 


78  FRED   LAWRENCE. 

by  the  way,  and  so  he  meant  tc  do  for  the 
future.     Hurrah  for  the  Old  World ! 

"  What  are  you  at  home  for  at  this  time 
of  day  ?  "  asked  Addie,  as  her  brother  entered 
the  front  door  early  in  the  afternoon. 

"  Only  because  I  was  sent." 

"  Received  your  dismission  then,  have  you  ? 
Another  case  of  conscience  ?  " 

"  A  case  of  inclination,  rather.  Where  do 
you  suppose  they  are  going  to  send  me  ?"       ■ 

"Send  you?  To  Halifax,  I  suppose,  for 
bad  conduct." 

"  Well,  you  arc  not  so  very  wrong  there," 
said  Fred,  laughing  ;  "  only  you  should  have 
guessed  a  little  farther  off  than  Halifax." 

"  Jericho,  then,  perhaps." 

"  Not  quite,  but  another  big  city  across 
the  water." 

"  What,  you  are  not  going  to  sea !" 

"Oh,  yes,  I  expect  to  see  a  great  many 
things." 

"  Well,  do  talk  plain  English  for  once,  so 
that   a  body  can   understand  you.     Have 


FEED   LAWRENCE.  .   79 

you  concluded  to  go  into  the  country  with 
me?" 

"  No,  but  I  am  going  out  of  it, — without 
you,  unfortunately." 

"  There,  that  will  do  for  nonsense.  Now, 
tell  me,  you  old  Tease,  what  you  are  going 
to  do." 

"  Well,  what  do  you  think  of  a  voyage  to 
Europe  ?" 

"  I  think  it  would  be  a  very  fine  thing, 
rather  finer  than  a  voyage  to  the  moon,  per- 
haps." 

"  But  a  great  deal  more  possible.  The 
fact  is,  I  sail  for  Havre  by  the  next  steamer." 

"Fred  Lawrence,  what  are  you  talking 
about  ?     You  are  not  in  earnest." 

"But  I  am,  though.  It  is  a  sober  fact, 
Addie,  and  what  is  more,  the  steamer  goes 
Saturday  morning.  So,  if  you  have  any  dis- 
patches for  Europe,  be  preparing  them." 

"  Mother,  what  do  you  suppose  it  means?" 
exclaimed  Addie,  dragging  the  culprit  after 
ber  into  the  parlor.     "  This  Fred,  here,  saya 


80  FRED   LAWEENCB. 

he  is  going  to  start  for  France  next  Saturday 
morning." 

"  Fred  can  tell  us  what  it  means,  I  sup- 
pose," said  Mrs.  Lawrence. 

"  Addie  is  very  incredulous.  I  was  trying 
to  make  lier  understand  that  I  am  sent  on 
some  business  of  the  firm  to  Paris,  and  from 
there  to  Lyons  and  Leghorn." 

"  It  is  a  long  journey.  Had  they  no  one 
to  send  but  you  ?  " 

"  I  presume  they  could  find  a  thousand 
that  would  be  glad  to  make  the  tour  of 
Europe,  with  their  expenses  paid ;  but  it 
seems  they  choose  to  confer  the  favor  on  me." 

"  The  favor,  with  the  hazard.  It  is  rather 
hard  to  let  you  go  so  suddenly,  my  son." 

"  Oh,  mother,  it  is  nothing  to  go  to  Europe, 
when  there  are  thousands  coming  and  going 
every  day !" 

"Well,  I  will  try  and  not  think  of  the 
danger.  But  I  do  not  see  how  you  can  pos. 
sibly  be  ready  for  so  long  a  journey  in  a  day 
and  a  half." 


FRED   LAWBENCE.  81 

"Don't  trouble  yourself  about  the  prepa- 
ration. I  shall  want  no  baggage  but  my 
valise,  and  I  can  pack  that  in  less  than  an 
hour.'' 

4i  The  easiest  thing  in  the  world,"  said 
Addie ;  "  only  to  shoulder  your  pack  and 
march  off.  I  never  saw  a  man  yet  who  had 
the  slightest  idea  of  what  is  needed  in  pre- 
paring for  a  journey." 

"  And  I  never  saw  a  woman  who  did  not 
give  herself  the  most  unreasonable  amount 
of  trouble  in  getting  ready  to  go  fifty  miles. 
It  is  the  old  story  of  "  big  trunk,  little  trunk, 
bandbox  and  bundle  ;"  the  last  two  articles 
generally  multiplied  to  a  dozen  or  more. 
But  excuse  me,  Addie,  I  won't  quarrel  any 
more.  Only  don't  worry  yourself  about  my 
clothing." 

Nevertheless,  the  next  day  was  one  of 
great  bustle  and  preparation.  Addie  could 
not  think  of  having  her  brother  go  on  his 
European  travels  without  every  article  of 
apparel  in  the  finest  order. 


82  FRED   LAWRENCE 

"  It  seems  so  strange  that  these  will  be 
opened  in  Paris,"  said  she,  as  she  tucked  a 
handkerchief  into  the  last  remaining  crevice 
of  the  valise. 

"  Shall  I  tie  that  handkerchief  around  the 
neck  of  Napoleon's  bust  in  the  Hotel  des 
Invalides,  and  bring  it  to  you  for  a  keep- 
sake ?" 

"  Yes,  do — if  it  won't  be  considered  an 
indignity  to  the  great  Emperor.     I  wish  I* 
were  going  with  you,  Fred." 

"  So  do  I,  but,  you  know  I  shall  be  rich 
by  and  by,  and  then  we  will  all  make  a  tour 
together." 

"  Well,  then,  as  the  next  best  thing,  you 
must  look  twice  at  every  thing,  once  for  me 
and  once  for  yourself,  so  that  I  may  see  a 
little  through  your  eyes." 

"  I  shall  not  have  time  to  write  very  long 
letters,  but  I  will  keep  notes  of  everything  by 
the  way,  and  my  note-book  shall  be  at  yonr 
service  when  I  get  home." 

Saturday  morning  came ;  the  preparations 


FRED    LAWEENCE.  83 

were  completed,  and  nothing  remained  but 
the  leave-taking — the  hardest  part,  perhaps, 
of  all  the  antecedents  to  a  voyage. 

"  It  is  ten  o'clock,  mother,  and  I  must  go, 
as  I  have  to  call  at  the  store.  It  would  not 
do  to  miss  the  steamer." 

"  Good-bye,  my  son,  take  all  possible  care 
of  yourself,  and  God  keep  you !" 

"  Good-bye,  dear  mother.  Don't  be  anxious. 
You  know  I  am  always  sure  to  turn  up  safe 
in  the  end." 

"My  trust  is  higher  th?n  in  your  good 
fortunes.  But  be  careful,  my  son,  and  do 
not  let  that  love  of  adventure  lead  you  into 
needless  dangers." 

"  Good-bye,  Addie,  what  shall  I  bring  you  ?' 

"  Yourself  in  good  order,  Fred  ;  it  is  all  I 
will  ask." 

"  Well,  good-bye — au  revoir  in  six  weeks. 
Remember,  mother,  don't  have  any  fears  on 
my  account.    I  will  be  careful." 


CHAPTER    XIII. 


'In  the  darkness  as  In  daylight, 

On  the  water  as  on  land, 
God's  eye  i.s  looking  on  us, 
And  beneath  us  is  his  hand  I" 

•    Whittckr. 


"A  life  on  the  ocean  wave,"  Fred 
whistled  to  himself,  as  he  paced  the  deck, 
while  the  noble  steamer  plowed  her  way 
through  the  Narrows,  and  began  to  roll  and 
swing  with  the  heavy  swell  from  the  open 
sea.  He  felt  as  if  he  had  been  living  in  a 
nutshell  all  his  life,  shut  up  between  close 
walls  in  a  crowded  city.  And  even  in  the 
country,  where  he  had  always  felt  free  as  a 
bird  let  loose,  there  were  trees  and  fences 
and  houses  always  in  sight.  He  had  really 
been  twenty  years  a  prisoner,  and  fancied 
himself  free. 

Now,  for  the  first  time,  he  had  room  to 
breath'  .and  think,  and  live.  He  gazed  upoc 
(84) 


FRED    LAWRENCE.  85 

the  boundless  expa  lse,  with  the  distant  ho- 
rizon for  its  walls,  the  sky  its  only  ceiling, 
and  the  fathomless  depths  of  the  ocean  ita 
foundation  ;  and  his  mind  seemed  to  grow 
as  it  stretched  to  take  in  the  largeness  of  tho 
idea. 

As  the  ship  emerged  into  the  ocean,  be- 
yond the  protection  of  the  harbor,  most  of  the 
passengers  yielded  to  the  effects  of  the  swell, 
and  began  to  disappear  below.  Fred  held 
out  manfully.  "  I  shall  forfeit  Uncle  James' 
diploma  of  sailorship,"  said  he  to  himself, 
"  if  I  give  way  to  the  first  attack." 

He  stayed  on  deck  in  the  cool  fresh  air, 
all  the  evening,  watching  the  stars  as  they 
came  out  in  the  clear  sky,  and  were  reflected 
in  the  blue  waters.  His  thoughts  went  back 
and  lingered  lovingly  in  the  little  home-cir 
cle  where  he  knew  two  anxious  ones  were 
thinking,  perhaps  talking  of  him.  He  wished 
he  could  inspire  them  with  half  the  hope  and 
enthusiasm  he  felt  in  view  of  the  voyage, — 
then  it  would  not  seem  to  tliem  so  terrible  a 


B6  FRED   LAWRENCE. 

thing  to  cross  the  ocean  and  be  thousands 
of  miles  from  home. 

"While  Fred  was  leaning  over  the  railing 
gazing  into  the  water,  but  with  his  thoughts 
on  land,  a  hand  was  laid  familiarly  on  his 
arm.  He  started  from  his  reverie,  and  look- 
ed up,  when  the  stranger  said — 

"  Pardon  the  intrusion  ;  your  name  is  Law- 
rence. I  believe  ?" 

The  speaker  was  a  young  man  of  about  his 
own  age,  whom  Frederic  remembered  to  have 
noticed  as  he  came  on  board,  but  afterwards 
lost  among  the  crowd. 

"You  are  right,"  he  replied,  "but  I  can- 
not at  this  moment  recall  your  name,  if,  in 
deed,  I  have  before  had  the  pleasure  of  your 
acquaintance." 

"  My  name  is  Miller,"  said  the  other.  "  I 
saw  yours  on  the  captain's  book,  and  felt 
sure  that  you  must  be  a  friend  of  a  classmate 
of  mine,  Charles  Mason.  I  had  so  often 
heard  him  speak  of  you,  that  I  considered 
myself  almost  a  friend  at  second  hand." 


FRED    LAWRENCE.  87 

"I  shall  be  most  happy  to  renew  the 
friendship  in  person,"  said  Lawrence,  with  a 
cordial  grasp  of  the  hand.  <;  I  have  heard 
of  you  very  frequently  through  Mason,  dur- 
ing the  last  four  years." 

"  He  was  my  chum  during  nearly  all  that 
time,  and  more  intimately  allied  with  me 
than  with  almost  any  one  else ;  excepting 
always  his  friend  Lawrence,  whom  he  seemed 
to  consider  somewhere  between  a  brother  and 
a  patron  saint.  You  had  a  sort  of  sq nat- 
ter's right  in  his  regards,  it  must  be  con- 
fessed." 

"  Yes,  but  by  no  means  an  exclusive  one," 
replied  Frederic,  with  a  smile.  "  We  almost 
grew  up  together  in  school ;  and  knowing 
Charley  Mason  as  you  do,  you  will  easily 
believe  I  became  much  attached  to  him.  He 
is  in  Europe  just  now,  you  know." 

"  Yes ;  I  hope  to  meet  him  in  Paris,  and 
then  we  shall  travel  together  for  several 
months,  I  suppose.  You  go  to  Paris,  do  yon 
not  ?    It  would  be  a  curious  chance  if  we 


88  FRED    LAWRENCE. 

should  all  meet  there.     He  does  not  expect 
me,  so  it  will  be  a  double  surprise." 

"  Paris  is  my  first  stopping-place  ;  but  I 
am  only  on  a  business  trip,  and  though  I  go 
as  far  south  as  Leghorn,  I  expect  to  be  at 
home  in  less  than  two  months." 

"  Perhaps  we  can  arrange  it  to  go  so  far 
together  ;   that  is,  if  you  will  like  it." 

"  Nothing  could  give  me  greater  pleasure," 
replied  Lawrence. 

The  new  acquaintanceship  was  very  soon 
consolidated  into  a  friendship.  Twelve  days 
on  shipboard  are  worth  more  than  as  many 
months  on  land  for  forming  an  intimacy,  if 
there  is  any  congeniality  of  feeling  at  the 
commencement. 

Miller  was  contemplating  a  rambling  tour 
of  Europe  as  a  further  preparation  for  the 
literary  pursuits  to  which  he  intended  devot- 
ing his  life.  It  was  a  valuable  acquaintance 
to  Lawrence.  He  was  well  qualified  to  ap 
preciate  in  another,  though  he  had  only  to  a 
limited  degree  attained,  himself,  that  elegant 


FRED    LAWRENCE.  89 

culture  which  literature  bestows  upon  the 
mind.  Miller  had  a  hearty  interest  in  all 
that  is  beautiful  or  wonderful  in  nature  and 
art ;  but  it  was  the  interest  of  a  healthy  and 
active  mind  in  the  natural  supply  of  its 
tastes  and  desires.  He  was  far  enough  from 
that  sickly  sentimentalism  which  sometimes 
seems  to  characterize  incipient  genius.  He 
did  not  effect  long  hair  and  negligence 
of  apparel, 

"  Nor  a  la  Byron  wear  his  collar  down." 

Nov  did  he  scribble  sonnets  on  the  railings, 
or  on  the  fly-leaves  in  the  ship's  library.  In 
short,  the  poetical  character  was  proved  in 
him,  not  so  much  by  any  outward  badge,  as 
by  the  evidence  of  a  strong  mind,  a  refined 
imagination,  and  a  conscientious  desire  to 
serve  mankind  by  contributing  to  the  de- 
mands of  the  same  faculties  in  others. 

Twelve  days  upon  the  ocean  passed  very 
quickly  to   our   young  adventurers.      Thej 
were  quite  free  from  the  ennui  which  those 
8* 


90  FRED   LAWRENCE. 

endured  who  could  only  change  from  stat© 
room  to  cabin,  and  hack  again  from  cabin  to 
state-room,  anticipating  and  retrospecting 
Wie  four  great  events  of  the  day, — breakfast, 
luncheon,  dinner,  and  supper.  To  them,  on 
the  contrary,  every  object  presented  some 
point  of  interest.  The  various  parts  of  the 
ship,  the  working  of  its  ponderous  machinery, 
even  the  routine,  novel  to  them,  of  shipboard 
life,  all  attracted  their  notice,  and  added  to 
their  stock  of  information. 

On  the  eleventh  day,  the  white  cliffs  of 
Dover  were  visible  above  the  blue  waters  ; 
and  our  travellers  gazed  long  and  earnestly 
at  their  first  view  of  the  land  of  their 
fathers.  It  was  with  a  feeling  of  regret 
that  Lawrence  saw  them  disappear  as  if  sink- 
ing into  the  waves.  It  was  tantalizing  to 
be  so  near,  and  not  even  to  set  his  foot  upon 
English  soil.  But  he  was  rapidly  approach- 
ing the  end  of  the  voyage,  and  his  mind  was 
soon  occupied  with  anticipations  of  scenes  in 
foreign  lands. 


FRED    LAWRENCE.  91 

The  next  morning,  as  they  readied  the 
deck,  the  old  town  of  Havre,  with  its  massive 
round  tower,  was  in  full  view.  Our  two 
friends  amused  themselves  with  examining 
its  quaint  old  buildings  by  means  of  a  field 
glass,  speculating  upon  the  uses  of  different 
parts  of  the  town,  and  conjuring  up  from  his- 
tory the  distinguished  characters  that  had 
acted  a  part  within  its  walls. 

The  custom-house  officer,  with  his  curious 
medley  of  French  and  English,  first  reminded 
them  that  the  business  of  life  had  recom- 
menced for  them,  after  a  fortnight's  vacation. 
Very  few  formalities  were  required  with 
their  light  baggage,  before  our  two  travel- 
lers found  themselves  on  the  railway  train 
for  the  great  capital,  where  t'.ey  arrived 
early  in  the  afternoon.  After  examining  the 
books  of  several  hotels,  they  were  fortunate 
anough  to  find  the  name  of  Charles  Mason, 
Jr.,  from  New  York,  and  the  three  friends 
were  very  speedily  established  in  the  same 
lodgings.     Mason's  joy  knew  no  bounds  at 


92  FRED    LAWRENCE. 

this  unexpected  meeting  with  the  two  per 
sons  of  all  the  world  whom  he  most  desired 
to  see  at  that  particular  time  and  place. 

"  There,  Fred,"  he  exclaimed,  in  his  excite- 
ment, "  I  always  said  you  were  my  good 
genius,  and  to  find  you  dropping  down  upon 
me  here,  just  at  the  time  when  I  most  needed 
you,  I  really  am  convinced  of  it.  I  have 
been  dying  of  home-sickness  ever  since  father 
left  me  here,  a  week  ago — Paris  has  seemed 
the  dullest  place  in  the  world  to  me.  Now 
you  two  are  here,  I  begin  to  think  there  may 
be  something  in  it,  after  all.  And  then,  I 
have  always  wanted  that  you  should  be- 
come acquainted,  and  it  was  quite  comical 
that  you  should  meet  on  the  same  ship  com- 
ing to  my  rescue.  It  is  good  enough  fc  r  a 
Btory."' 


CHAPTER    XIV. 

4  Well,  what  are  you  going  to  see  ie 
I  'aris  ? "  Mason  inquired,  the  next  morning, 
at  breakfast. 

"  The  Louvre,  of  course,  and  the  Luxem- 
bourg," said  Miller,  "  and  pictures  and  stat- 
uary wherever  they  are  to  be  found." 

"  Business  will  have  to  be  the  chief  thing 
with  me,"  said  Lawrence,  "  but  I  want  to 
see  the  Hotel  des  Invalides,  and  the  Trium- 
phal Arches,  and  the  Bourse." 

"  Everything  that  has  the  name  of  Napo- 
leon the  First  connected  with  it,"  said 
Mason,  laughing.  "  You  haven't  given  up 
hero-worship  yet,  Fred." 

"Not  quite.  I  think  great  men  are  too 
few  and  far  between  not  to  be  appreciated 
when  they  do  appear.  Besides,  I  believe  I 
have  a  small  errand  to  fulfil  at  the  Invalides/ 

(93) 


94  FRED   LAWR5NCB. 

"  There  is  one  place  to  which  I  wish  to  go,* 
said  Miller,  "  anl  that  is  the  theatre  where 
Rachel  is  acting." 

"  A  capital  idea.  Suppose  we  go  there 
to-night.     What  say  you,  Fred  ?  " 

"  As  far  as  I  myself  am  concerned,  I  must 
say  no,  Charley.  You  know  I  never  go  to 
the  theatre  at  home." 

"  But  it  is  quite  a  different  thing  here,  you 
know.  The  acting  is  of  the  very  highest 
order,  and  as  everybody  goes,  good,  bad, 
and  indifferent,  there  is  no  use  in  one's  dis- 
senting." 

"  I  know  there  is  some  difference,"  replied 
Lawrence,  "  but  not  quite  enough  to  alter 
my  opinion.  I  have  thought  over  the  matter 
pretty  thoroughly,  and  decided  that  there 
are  fewer  arguments  for  than  against  the 
theatre  ;  and  having  come  to  that  conclusion, 
I  shall  want  some  very  good  reasons  for 
altering  it." 

"  I  know  that,"  said  Mason,  laughing. 
"  You  are  as  '  set  in  your  ways '  as  a  certain 


FRED   LAWRENCE.  95 

Deacon  Goodman  that  I  heard  of  once  ;  and 
when  you  have  taken  your  position,  I  am 
only  playing  the  game  of  Xerxes  at  Mount 
Athos  in  attempting  to  move  you." 

"I  should  never  attend  the  theatre  at 
home,"  said  Miller,  "  though  I  have  always 
wished  to  hear  a  superior  actor.  There  are 
too  many  degrading  associations  connected 
with  it,  and  I  suppose  its  influence  is  in  most 
cases  injurious.  But  here  in  Paris,  where, 
there  is  not  a  soul  that  knows  us,  our  ex- 
ample certainly  cannot  have  any  effect.  I 
think  we  may  go  to  hear  the  first  tragedienne 
of  the  age,  with  profit  to  ourselves,  and  no 
harm  to  any  one  else." 

"We  are  not  always  so  sure  of  that," 
replied  Lawrence.  "  I  knew  a  distinguished 
professor  of  elocution,  in  one  of  our  home 
colleges,  who,  on  a  visit  to  a  distant  city, 
went  to  hear  and  see  a  celebrated  actor.  He 
thought  himself  entirely  unknown,  so  that 
his  influence  would  be  nothing,  and  went,  as 
you  go,  I  suppose,    only   to  study  a  good 


96  FRED    LAWRENCE. 

model  of  oratory.  He  was  rather  mortified 
then,  to  find  himself  seated  next  to  a  fellow- 
townsman,  and  the  very  person  of  all  the 
world  whom  he  least  desired  to  meet  in 
those  circumstances ;  a  man  of  no  moral 
principle,  with  whom  he  had  held  frequent 
discussions  on  questions  of  conduct,  and  who 
would  greatly  rejoice  to  detect  any  want 
of  consistency  in  one  who  professed  to  be 
governed  by  conscience." 

"  But  we  are  neither  ministers  nor  profes- 
sors," replied  Miller  ;  "  and  then,  here  it  is  so 
common,  I  am  sure  no  one  would  look  twice 
at  the  phenomenon  of  three  young  men  going 
to  a  theatre.  And  if  they  did,  what  is  the 
example  of  three  in  a  million  ?  " 

"  This,  at  least,"  said  Lawrence,  "  that  the 
million  will  never  be  right  until  the  particu- 
lar ones  that  compose  the  million  do  their 
duty." 

"  Certainly ;  but  if  one  begins,  how  is  he 
to  be  sure  that  nine  hundred  and  ninety-nine 
thousand,  nine  hundred  and  ninety-nine  will 


FEED   LAWRENCE.  91 

do  their  part,  so  that  his  plan  of  general 
improvement  will  not  fall  through  at  last, 
for  want  of  support." 

"  If  one  does  his  own  duty,"  said  Law- 
rence, "  I  think  he  need  not  take  the  bur- 
den of  the  rest  of  the  million  upon  him- 
self."     - 

"But  we  were  speaking  of  influence,"  said 
Miller.  "  If  my  example  is  not  of  the 
slightest  force  either  way,  and  the  tiling  to 
be  done  is  innocent  to  me,  I  see  no  reason 
for  refraining  from  it,  because  it  might  be 
injurious  to  others.  After  all,  this  whole 
argument  about  individual  influence  seems 
to  me  fallacious.  Since  the  days  of  Archi- 
medes I  think  no  man  has  attempted  to  move 
the  world." 

"  But,  since  Archimedes  never  attained  the 
position  he  wanted,"  replied  Lawrence,  "I 
imagine  the  world,  if  moved  at  all,  will  have 
to  be  moved  by  multitudes  of  smaller  levers, 
used  by  different  hands.  The  direction  of 
the  whole  is  not  entrusted  to  any  human 
9 


9§  FRED    LAWRENCE. 

mind,  but  still  their  working  may  not  be  aa 
disconnected  as  it  might  appear." 

"  Well,  you  have  the  best  of  the  argument, 
apparently,"  said  Miller,  "  but  still  I  believe 
I  shall  risk  the  effect  of  my  single  influence 
and  hear  Rachel,  if  she  appears  to-night" 


CHAPTER    XV. 

"True  to  the  kindred  points  of  heavon  and  home 

"What  will  you  do  with  yourself  this 
evening,  Fred?"  inquired  Mason,  as  they 
rose  from  dinner ;  "  I  am  sure  you  need  some 
recreation  more  than  we  do  ;  for  you  have 
been  attending  to  your  business  all  day, 
while  we  have  been  wandering  about  the 
city,  or  lounging  upon  the  Boulevards,  and 
skipping  stones  into  the  Seine." 

"  I  must  write  letters  home  to-night,"  said 
Lawrence,  "  for  the  steamer  goes  out  to-mor- 
row, and  the  mail  leaves  here  early  in  the 
morning." 

"  That's  true,"  exclaimed  Miller — "  I  had 
forgotten  it  entirely.  I  shall  have  to  write 
after  we  return,  just  to  announce  my  arrival. 
It  will  be  so  much  the  greater  proof  of 

(99) 


100  FEED   LAWEBNCE. 

remembrance  if  I  sit  up  into  the  small  hours 
to  accomplish  the  feat." 

The  classmates  soon  went  their  way, 
leaving  Fred  to  solitude  and  his  writing 
case.  Perhaps  we  may  be  forgiven  if  we 
look  into  the  letter  he  is  writing  : 

"  Dear  Addie  : 

"  I  doubt  not  you  are  waiting 
impatiently  for  your  first  letter  from  foreign 
lands,  and  perhaps  also  for  the  assurance  of 
my  safe  arrival.  Do  not  blame  me,  however, 
for  the  delay  ;  this  will  go  by  the  first  New 
York  mail  since  I  came  here.  There  is 
something  majestic  in  the  movements  of 
these  ocean  steamers  ;  they  will  not  hurry 
for  anybody's  impatience. 

"  I  had  a  very  pleasant  passage,  only  not 
quite  enough  variety  ;  the  weather  was 
beautiful  all  the  time,  and  the  ocean  com- 
paratively calm.  I  suppose  you  think  that 
the  very  best  weather  possible  for  a  voyage  ; 
bat  I  should  like  to  have  seen  a  storm— just 


FRED   LAWRENCE.  101 

a  very  small  one,  you  know — for  the  sake  of 
curiosity.  I  had  no  time  for  sea-sickness, 
because  I  wanted  to  make  the  most  of  all 
the  time  for  seeing  and  learning ;  so  after  a 
few  wry  faces  the  first  day  or  two,  I  waa 
quite  free  from  it.  It  was  rather  comical, 
though,  to  watch  the  unfortunate  ones  who 
were  victims  to  the  mal  de  mer.  That  waa 
not  very  good-natured,  you  think. 

"  I  found  on  board  an  intimate  friend  and 
classmate  of  Charley  Mason's.  He  is  really 
a  very  pleasant  acquaintance,  and  has  made 
the  journey  much  more  interesting  to  me. 
We  found  Charley,  too,  in  Paris,  yesterday  ; 
so  we  are  all  three  together. 

"  Well,  what  of  Paris  ?  you  are  asking. 
I  cannot  tell  you  much  about  it  yet.  Did 
you  ever  hear  of  a  man  who 

* Couldn't  see  the  town, 
There  were  so  many  houses  '  f 

M  That  is  just  my  condition  here.  The  dust, 
and  noise,  and  confusion,  are  much  the  same 


102  FEED   LAWRENCE. 

as  in  any  other  city,  and  that  is  the  most  1 
have  seen  or  heard,  as  yet.  Business  will 
occupy  me  quite  as  closely  as  ever  during 
the  few  days  I  can  remain,  so  I  have  not 
much  time  to  realize  that  I  am  in  the  greai 
capital  of  civilization. 

"  I  have  seen  the  Bourse,  however,  and 
several  of  the  fine  public  squares  ;  and  shall 
find  time,  in  the  chinks  of  business,  to  visit 
most  of  the  buildings  and  monuments  that 
we  have  heard  so  much  about. 

"You  must  be  contented  with  rather  a 
short  letter  to-night,  as  I  have  fr*  write 
another,  and  am  tired  with  such  a  day  of 
business  and  sight-seeing.  I  will  'eJl  you 
the  whole  story  when  I  get  home. 
"  Ever  yoir  affectionate  brofbor, 


CHAPTER    XVI. 


"  l  rly  hath  life's  mighty  question 
Pressed  upon  thy  heart  of  youth, 
TO  th  a  deep  and  strong  heseeching, 
What  and  where  is  truth  f '  " 


'*  He  is  a  strange  fellow,  that  friend  of 
yours,"  said  Miller,  as  the  two  classmates 
walked  arm  in  arm  down  the  street,  on  their 
way  to  the  theatre.  "  I  like  him  vastly  ;  he 
is  the  very  soul  of  honor,  and  goodness,  and 
all  that  sort  of  thing,  but  just  a  little  bit  too 
puritanical — don't  you  think  so  ?  " 

"  Well,  yes  —perhaps,"  said  Mason  ;  "  either 
he  is  too  much  so,  or  you  and  I  too  little  ;  I 
hardly  know  which." 

"  Now,  let  me  confess,"  said  Miller,  "  that 
I  came  out  to-night  from  mere  mulishness, 
because  I  would  not  seem  to  be  convinced 
by  his  arguments  ;  for  really  I  lost  all  desire 
■f  going  to  the  theatre  while  we  were  talk- 

U03) 


104  FRED    LAWRENCE. 

ing.  There  is  something  in  his  quiet  way 
that  brings  back  all  my  home  feeling,  and  I 
felt  as  if  my  mother  were  speaking  to  me 
through  him." 

"  We  are  not  in  danger  of  too  much  home- 
feeling  or  mother-influence,  tossed  about  here 
as  we  are,  like  chips  on  a  mill-race,"  said 
Mason,  musingly.  "  After  all,  Miller,  there's 
no  need  of  our  going  to  the  theatre,  though 
we  have  come  into  the  street,  and  I  don't 
care  to  go  to-night.  Let  us  go  into  this 
cafe  and  read  the  papers,  and  listen  to  tho 
talk  to  improve  our  French.  Lawrence  will 
have  written  his  letter  and  be  asleep  by  ten 
o'clock  ;  so  we  can  go  back  to  our  rooms  in 
good  season,  and  he  be  none  the  wiser." 

"  I  don't  know,  Mason,  that  I  care  about 
dodging  in  that  way.  Lawrence  may  aa 
well  have  the  credit  of  his  victory.  Besides 
I  really  ought  to  spend  the  evening  in  writ- 
ing letters,  and  nothing  would  have  pre- 
vented my  doing  so,  but  the  mulishnflss  ] 
told  you  of." 


FRED    LAWRENCE.  105 

"  And  of  which,  on  iny  part,  I  am  heartily 
ashamed,"  said  Mason.  "No,  you're  right, 
Miller,  there's  no  use  sneaking  home  in  that 
way.  Fred  is  the  most  generous  fellow  in 
„he  world,  and  never  seems  conscious  of  any 
advantage  he  has  gained.  But  then,  he  is 
so  unalterably  good  ;  it  sometimes  exasper- 
ates me  to  think  of  it,  in  my  unruly  moods." 

"  What  good  domestic  hours  your  Parisian 
theatres  keep,"  said  Fred,  looking  up  with  a 
quiet  smile,  from  the  letter  he  was  just  fold- 
ing, as  the  two  entered  the  room  at  nine 
o'clock.  "  I  shall  be  ready  to  acknowledge, 
Charley,  that  they  are  vastly  more  innocent 
than  those  at  home." 

"If  they  never  do  more  harm  than  they 
have  done  us  this  evening,  I  think  so,  too," 
said  Miller.  "  To  tell  the  truth,  I  thought 
it  would  sound  strangely,  if  told  in  the  home- 
circle  that  Alf  went  to  hear  Rachel  in  pref- 
erence to  writing  home." 

"  Well,  I  suppose  Rachel  will  do  as  well 
another  time." 


106  FRED   LAWRENCE. 

"I  am  quite  sure  she  will.'' 

'•Now,  tell  me  frankly,  Lawrence."  said 
Miller,  as  Loth  were  putting  aside  their  writ- 
ing implements,  "  if  you  do  not  find  it  bur- 
densome to  maintain  the  same  strict  rules  of 
conduct  here,  that  you  would  at  home.  Let 
me  tell  you  how  it  is  with  me.  I  despise 
that  rowdyish  cant  that  would  ridicule  the 
being  governed  by  maternal  influence,  and  I 
glory  in  declaring  that  I  would  not  do  any- 
thing, even  the  least,  to  give  my  mother  pain, 
or  incur  her  displeasure.  When  1  am  at 
home,  with  all  my  movements  known  to  her, 
I  feel  in  a  great  measure  bound  by  her  rule 
of  duty,  though  her  judgment  is  on  many 
points  more  rigid  than  my  own ;  and  there 
it  is  no  burden,  because  the  desire  of  pleas- 
ing her  is  stronger  than  any  other.  But 
here,  wandering  around  the  world,  unknown, 
I  feel  as  if  I  were  responsible  to  no  one,  and 
qui  driven  like  a  leaf  before  the  wind,  where- 
ever  my  impulses  take  me." 

"In  one  thing,  I  quite  agree  with  vou," 


FRED    LAWRENCE.  107 

replied  Lawrence.  "  Regard  for  my  mother's 
wishes  would  keep  me  from  doing  anything 
which  she  disapproved,  even  though  my  own 
judgment  did  not  condemn  it.  But  I  think 
our  principles  of  conduct  should  rest  on 
stronger  grounds  than  the  opinion  of  an- 
other, even  though  that  were  almost  sacred 
to  us.  Our  own  settled  convictions  of  right 
are  good  for  all  latitudes,  and  will  guide  us 
when  all  other  considerations  fail." 

"But  if  one  has  no  very  settled  convic- 
tions of  right,"  said  Miller.  "  You  seem  to 
ha\e  your  opinions  all  completed,  sealed,  and 
labelled,  like  a  lawyer's  briefs,  ready  to  be 
referred  to  in  any  case  of  emergency.  Now, 
for  my  part,  I  don't  half  know  what  I  do 
believe  about  many  of  these  things." 

"  I  have  found  it  best,"  said  Lawrence 
"when  a  question  comes  up,  to  gain  all 
needed  Information  on  the  subject,  and  settle 
it  at  oi'ce.  Then  it  never  troubles  me  again, 
unlev,  there  appears  sufficient  reason  for 
r  yaj>  deration  and  amendment." 


108  FRED   LAWRENCE. 

"And  so  you  go  on  from  one  thing  to 
another,  constructing  your  theory  of  ethics, ' 
said  Miller.  "  Really,  Lawrence,  you  are 
more  of  a  philosopher  than  one  often  finds 
under  twenty-one.  There  is  more  logic  re- 
quired in  ordering  a  life  wisely  than  in 
elaborating  a  system." 

"  Miller  is  rapidly  becoming  your  devoted 
admirer  and  humble  disciple,"  said  Mason. 
"  It  is  equal  to  Socrates  and  Plato." 

'*  On  a  small  scale,"  said  Miller.  "  But, 
really,  Lawrence,  I  should  be  thankful  for 
some  of  the  data  on  which  you  have  founded 
your  ideas  of  the  theatre.  The  chief  reason 
why  I  have  never  been  to  it  is,  that  the  class 
of  persons  who  attend  are  often  not  such  as 
one  would  wish  to  mingle  with.  But  it 
seems  to  me  that  the  sin  is  not  in  the  thing 
itself,  but  in  its  accidents." 

"It  makes  very  little  difference  in  what 
the  sin  consists,"  said  Lawrence  ;  "  so  long 
as  the  whole  thing  has  been  found  to  be 
injurious.     It  may  be  a  question  for  meta- 


FRED    LAWRENCE.  109 

physicians  whether  the  sin  is  essential  or 
accidental;  but  the  only  practical  question 
is,  '  Does  it  do  good,  or,  does  it  do  evil  ?' 
If  its  results  are  evil,  the  thing  itself  is 
unsafe  and  wrong." 

"Well,  then,  is  the  influence  of  the  theatre 
always  and  necessarily  bad?"  said  Miller. 
"  The  people  of  Athens  were,  as  a  mass, 
more  intelligent  than  many  nations  of  the 
present  day,  and  they  owed  most  of  it  to 
their  drama." 

"  And  the  people  of  earlier  Greece  were 
thoroughly  instructed  in  their  national  kis- 
tory  by  minstrels  who  wandered  about  with 
their  harps ;  but  it  would  be  a  roundabout 
way  of  instructing  the  masses  nowadays, 
to  assemble  them  together  to  hear  a  blind 
old  man  chant  stories  in  doggerel  rhymes. 
I  think  the  race  has  outgrown  its  nursery 
rhymes  and  picture-books,  and  is  to  be  in- 
structed now  by  different  means." 

"  But  that  only  proves  the  unimportance  of 
the  theatre  as  a  medium  of  instruction,  which, 
10 


110  FRED   LAWRENCE. 

in  the  present  age,  I  am  willing  to  admit.  1 
do  not  see  why  as  a  form  of  amusement  it 
may  not  be  harmless,  and  thus  answer  some 
good  purpose." 

"  You  judge  of  this  thing  in  the  abstract, 
Miller.  You  have  not  mingled  in  the  actual 
current  of  city  life,  and  seen  the  many  mo- 
tives that  go  to  support  an  institution  which, 
from  a  distance,  may  appear  even  beneficial. 
I  have  been  in  the  very  midst  of  it,  and  I 
tell  you,  that  of  thousands  who  frequent 
the  theatre  in  New  York,  not  one  in  five 
hundred  goes  for  any  higher  inducement 
than  the  excitement  of  gas-light  and  crowds, 
while  many,  we  know,  are  led  by  still  lower 
motives.'' 

"  Do  you  mean  to  say  that  none  go  from  a 
pure  literary  interest  in  the  drama  ?" 

"  A  few  go  for  that  reason,  undoubtedly, 
but  they  are  the  exception  and  not  the  rule. 
We  overrate  their  number,  because  they  are 
those  from  whom  we  hear  through  the  press, 
by  their  comment?  and  criticisms,  while  of 


FRED   LAWRENCE.  Ill 

flie  great  mass  who  crowd  the  theatres,  we 
know  nothing  individually." 

"  But  after  all,"  said  Miller,  "  why  must  I 
be  responsible  for  other  people's  motives? 
Am  I  to  be  debarred  from  instruction  and 
intellectual  enjoyment,  because  a  thousand 
silly  fools,  who  cannot  taste  that  enjoyment, 
seeking  the  same  amusement  from  un- 
worthy motives,  are  injured  by  it?  This 
does  not  seem  to  me  like  freedom.  It  is 
being  in  bondage  to  other  people's  imbecili- 
ty." 

"  It  is  a  very  small  degree  of  instruction 
or  enjoyment  you  would  lose  ;  and  with  all 
the  other  means  of  improvement  at  jour 
command,  you  would  hardly  miss  it.  But 
yet,  Miller,  if  I  thought  that  by  my  gmng 
once  or  twice,  and  that  from  the  purest  mo 
tives,  a  feather's  weight  would  be  withdrawn 
from  the  barriers  that  prevent  others  from 
habitual  attendance ;  or,  if  a  single  one  by 
my  example  should  be  induced  to  enter  upon 
that  course  which,  pursued,  is  sure  to  ep<3  m 


112  FRED   LAWRENCE. 

dissipation  and  moral  ruin,  I  would  rather 
wear  fetter?  and  live  in  a  dungeon  all  my 
days,  than  use  my  freedom  thus  for  the  d» 
gtruciion  of  others." 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

Within  the  next  week  our  three  travellers 
Cook  their  leave  of  the  great  capital  by  the 
train  for  Lyons.  Mason  and  Miller  were 
to  make  their  tour  through  Italy,  accom- 
panying Lawrence  as  far  as  Leghorn,  where 
he  would  embark  for  home ;  while  they, 
after  a  pedestrian  ramble  through  Switzer- 
land and  southern  France,  were  to  return  to 
Paris,  to  complete  their  study  of  its  won- 
ders. 

Nothing  could  exceed  the  interest  and 
amusement  of  the  railroad  journey.  The 
bracing  air  of  a  clear  September  morning, 
the  excitement  of  new  scenes  and  manners 
arid  language,  the  sense  of  rapid  motion  that 
always  arouses  the  spirits  of  youth  and 
enterprise,  all  lent  their  influence  to  excite 
10*  (113) 


114  FRED   LAWRENCE. 

merriment,  and  make  the  hours  of  the  jour- 
ney pass  rapidly  away. 

The  three  amused  themselves  with  study- 
ing the  different  faces,  and  comparing  their 
impressions  as  to  the  character  and  social 
condition  therein  displayed.  At  a  way-sta- 
tion, near  Paris,  a  woman  with  two  young 
children  entered  the  car.  With  the  genuine 
politeness  native  to  Frenchmen,  half  a  dozen 
seats  were  immediately  placed  at  her  dis- 
posal, though  all  had  been  previously  filled  ; 
of  which  she  took  one  nearly  opposite  our 
three  friends,  so  as  to  fall  unconsciously 
under  their  perfectly  good-natured,  though 
hardly  civil  observation. 

More  fastidious  critics  would  hardly  have 
awarded  to  her  the  title  of  lady,  for  her  dress, 
though  the  model  of  neatness  and  simple 
taste,  bore  evident  marks  of  superannuation. 
There  was,  however,  an  air  of  gentleness  and 
refinement  about  the  wearer,  which,  together 
with  the  pensive  and  almost  sorrowful  ex- 
pression of  her  countenanse,  hushed  all  dis- 


FRED   LAWRENCE.  115 

position  to  satirical  remark,  and  our  young 
observers-general  soon  turned  to  more 
amusing  subjects  of  criticism. 

As  the  train  stopped  in  the  depot  at  Lyons, 
and  the  passengers  were  dispersing,  with 
much  less  bustle  than  an  American  '  station' 
presents  on  similar  occasions,  their  atten- 
tion was  again  attracted  to  their  neighbor 
on  the  opposite  side,  who  was  trying  in  vain 
to  make  herself  understood  by  the  conductor. 
French  evidently  was  not  her  native  lan- 
guage ;  and  an  occasional  word  or  accent 
soon  convinced  Lawrence  that  she  was  Eng- 
lish. 

"You  speak  English,  Madam,"  said  he, 
advancing  respectfully  toward  where  she 
stood  ;  "  could  I  be  of  any  service  to  you  as 
an  interpreter  ?" 

'  Thank  you,"  said  the  stranger,  with  a 
Bmile  of  relief  at  the  sound  of  her  native 
language.  "lam  quite  unaccustomed  to  the 
use  of  the  French.  My  husband  was  to  meet 
me  here,  but  I  fear  he  must  have  failed  to 


116  FRED   LAWRENCE. 

receive  my  letter.  Perhaps  the  conductor 
could  find  him  if  he  is  in  the  depot." 

"  Let  me  show  you  first  to  the  Ladies' 
Room,"  said  Frederic.  <;  He  will  be  more 
likely  to  look  for  you  there.  If  we  do 
not  meet  him,  I  will  find  a  directory  and  as- 
certain, if  possible,  his  address,  so  that  you 
can  send  a  message." 

'■  I  am  really  giving  you  too  much  trouble," 
said  the  woman. 

"  Not  the  least — it  is  only  a  pleasure," 
replied  Frederic,  as  he  assumed  the  charge 
of  several  carpet-bags  and  bundles,  while 
the  stranger,  carrying  one  child  and  leading 
the  other,  followed  on  the  way  to  the  sitting- 
room. 

"  Do  let  me  assist  you,  Fred,  in  your  new- 
found responsibilities,"  whispered  Mason, 
seizing  one  of  the  satchels. 

"Be  careful — she  can  understand  you," 
Lawrence  replied,  in  French  ;  "  but  if  you 
wmt  to  make  yourself  useful,  you  may  go 
and  inquire  if  a  Mr.  John  Ingham  Smith  has 


FRED    LAWRENCE.  Ill 

been  here  looking  for  any  one  of  the  passen- 
gers." 

"  I  presume  such  an  article  might  be  found," 
replied  Mason,  still  in  French. 

"  Oh,  well,  remember  you  are  in  a  place 
now,  where  even  a  John  Smith  may  be  a 
rarity." 

Woman,  children,  and  baggage  were  soon 
deposited  in  the  sitting-room,  and  their 
young  conductor  departed  in  search  of  the 
missing  husband.  He  soon  after  made  his 
appearance,  having  mistaken  the  time  of  ar- 
rival by  half  an  hour.  Receiving  many  ac- 
knowledgments for  their  small  service,  Law- 
rence and  his  companions  departed  in  quest 
of  lodgings  for  themselves. 

"  Acting  Don  Quixote  yet,  Fred,"  said  Ma- 
son ;  "  you  really  are  a  model  of  gallantry 
worthy  of  study." 

"  I  regard  it  as  nothing  more  nor  less  than 
a  duty,  Charley,  to  assist  a  woman  who  needs 
such  a  service.  Sh  n  was  a  perfect  stranger 
in  a  strange  placo  and  bewildered  by  he? 


118  FRED    LAWRENCE. 

ignorance  of  the  language.  You  would  b« 
ready  to  fight  with  any  man,  I  know,  -who 
neglected  to  help  your  mother  or  sisters  in 
such  an  emergency ;  and  that,  I  believe,  is 
the  standard  for  doing  unto  others." 

"  You  are  right,  as  usual,  0  pattern  of 
perfection,  and  I  am  the  impolitcst  fellow  in 
existence  ;  but  really,  trudging  along  under 
your  bundles,  you  looked  so  like  those  little 
beasts  of  burden  that  earn  a  sixpence  by 
carrying  a  carpet-bag  in  New  York,  that  it 
struck  upon  any  ludicrous  vein,  just  as  every- 
thing does  to-day." 


CHAPTER    XVIII. 

Five  days  sufficed  to  complete  the  business 
in  Lyons,  and  our  travellers  were  on  their 
way  to  Marseilles,  where  they  took  the 
steamer  for  Leghorn. 

'•  Who  would  have  thought,  a  year  ago," 
said  Mason,  as  they  sat  on  the  deck  of  the 
little  steamer,  "  that  we  three  should  be  to 
gether  at  this  time  on  the  Mediterranean  ? 
Things  do  turn  up  rather  nicely  sometimes, 
after  all." 

"After  all  what?"  said  Lawrence.  "I 
think  we  do  quite  as  well  to  take  it  for  the 
rule,  and  not  the  exception,  that  every  thing 
will '  turn  up'  about  right.  There  are  very 
few  things  in  the  world  worth  having,,  that  I 
donrt  expect  to  enjoy  if  I  live  long  enough." 

"  Nor  I/'  said  Miller,  "  but  it  is  because  1 
take  every  thing  as  it  comes,  and  squeeze  the 

(119) 


120  FRED   LAWRENCE. 

greatest  possible  amount  of  enjoyment  out  ot 
every  hour  and  every  circumstance.  There 
is  no  tiling  so  good  that  it  seems  beyond 
my  reach,  and  nothing  so  bad  that  it  may 
not  have  some  grains  of  good  in  it.  If  I 
were  so  fastidious  as  to  pick  up  only  the  un- 
mixed and  unexceptionable  nuggets  of  gold, 
I  should  despair  of  ever  completing  my  for- 
tunes. As  it  is,  I  am  a  sort  of  Epicurean, 
and  lay  every  thing  under  contribution." 
"  As  a  card  I  picked  up  to-day  expresses 


'  Taught  to  range,  with  poet-vision, 

Earth,  and  air,  and  sky, 
And,  o'erswept  by  dreams  elysian 
Of '  " 


"  Writing  bad  verses,"  interrupted  Miller. 
"  It  is  unmerciful  of  you,  Lawrence,  to  make 
such  a  reductio  ad  ahsurdum  of  my  poetical 
ambition." 

"  The  very  last  thing  I  thought  of.  No, 
no,  I  say  you  have  a  right  as  a  poet,  and  no 
less  as  a  man  and  a  Christian,  to  enjoy  all 
the  good  that  nature,  or  art,  or  society  can 


FRED    LAWRENCE  121 

offer.  But  I  suppose  you  are  equally  at  lib- 
erty to  reject  the  poisous  that  may  be  found 
in  either.  While  evil  remains  in  the  world, 
and  we  are  as  susceptible  to  its  influences  as 
humanity  is  now,  we  can  hardly  save  our- 
selves the  trouble  of  seeking  the  good  and 
avoiding  the  evil." 

"  Oh,  well,  but  who  wants  to  play  the  phi- 
losopher so  early  in  life?"  said  Mason,  yawn- 
ing. "  You,  Fred,  were  born  with  a  profes- 
sor's cap  on  ;  so  to  you  it  comes  naturally  to 
be  '  always  wise.'  " 

"  No,  I  shall  not  assent  to  that,"  said  Mil- 
ler. "  Lawrence  is  only  as  wise  as  the  rest 
of  us  ought  to  be ;  and  however  far  I  fall  be- 
low his  standard,  I  can  see  that  he  is  right." 

"  Yes,  right  always,  most  unquestionably 
right,"  replied  Mason,  "  and  I  like  it  vastly 
in  him  ;  but  what  other  mortal  twenty  years 
old  was  ever  so  sagacious  ?  I  intend  to  be 
so  some  day,  but  it  seems  to  me  now  the  only 
use  in  ever  being  young  is,  to  have  the  free- 
dom of  the  world  for  a  little  while.  It 
XI 


122  FRED   LAWRENCE. 

wouldn't  be  becoming  in  my  father  to  cut  up 
the  capers  I  do  now,  and  by  the  time  I  am 
forty  or  forty-five  I  mean  to  settle  down 
upon  my  dignity  and  be  a  sober,  respectable 
citizen." 

"  As  the  world  is  now,"  said  Lawrence, 
"  the  freedom  of  it  is  very  much  like  a  little 
child  having  the  freedom  of  a  tropical  forest, 
for  we  arc  but  children  if  we  refuse  to  exer- 
cise our  faculty  of  discernment.  One  might 
be  free  to  pick  up  pebbles  or  lizards,  to  eat 
berries  or  poisons,  to  play  with  pendent 
vines  or  with  rattle-snakes,  but  there  would 
be  some  difference  in  the  results.  However, 
it  is  very  fortunate,  Charley,  that  the  capers 
you  '  cut  up'  are  rather  in  theory  than  prac- 
tice. There  is  enough  home-feeling  about 
you  yet  to  prevent  any  great  wandering  for 
the  sake  of  '  seeing  life.'  Now,  Miller,  a 
penny  for  your  thoughts." 

"Perhaps  they  are  to  be  worth  more  than 
a  penny  in  future,"  interposed  Mason,  mis- 
chiov  lusly.    "  Tl  ii  king  is  one  of  the  learned 


FRED  LAWRENCE.  123 

professions,  you  know,  so  don't  make  too 
large  demands  for  its  gratuitous  exercise." 

"  Perfectly  at  your  service,"  said  Miller. 
"  I  was  contrasting  the  white  outline  of  the 
coast  with  this  'summer  heaven's  delicious 
blue,'  and  then  I  thought  how  much  more  in- 
spiration there  is  to  joy  and  to  fancy  w  these 
fresh  and  child-like  influences  of  nature,  than 
in  all  the  false  excitements  that  men  call 
pleasure." 

Many  such  discussions  took  place  during 
the  journey,  in  perfect  good  humor  on  all 
sides,  affording  exercise  to  thought,  and  in 
some  degree  elevating  the  standard  of  prin- 
ciple in  all  the  youthful  casuists.  Frederic 
Lawrence,  without  the  slightest  assumption 
of  superior  wisdom,  was  more  settled  in  his 
convictions  of  truth  and  duty  than  either  of 
his  companions." 

He  had  long  since  pondered  the  weight  of 
that  command  :  "  Let  every  man  be  fully  per- 
suaded in  his  own  mind,"  and  he  perceived 
that  upon  it  rested  the  equity  of  the  law  that 


124  FEED   LAWRENCE. 

"  every  one  shall  give  account  of  himself  to 
God."  Without  presumptuously  setting  aside 
the  opinions  of  others,  he  knew  that  no  ono 
could  bear  for  him  the  responsibility  of  a 
right  guidance  of  his  own  conduct. 

Seeking  therefore  all  the  light  which  rea- 
son and  revelation  could  furnish,  he  had  en- 
deavored honestly  and  carefully  to  solve 
every  practical  question  that  presented  itself 
in  the  course  of  his  life  ;  and  the  result  was, 
that  though  his  decisions  might  not  be  infal- 
lible in  wisdom,  he  was  yet  enabled  in  their 
strength  to  go  on  cheerfully  with  a  clear  and 
quiet  conscience. 

If  sincere,  earnest,  patient  thought  were 
not  so  much  an  object  of  dread  ;  if  the  mind 
would  but  seriously  consider  the  truths  of 
its  own  existence,  how  much  uneasiness 
would  be  spared  ;  how  many  joys  would  be 
brightened  and  divested  of  their  sting ;  how 
peaceful  and  how  happy  might  our  life  be- 
come !  But  nothing  do  we  avoid  so  much  as 
simple  reflection  upon  the  facts  of  our  owd 


FRED    LAWRENCE.  125 

being ;  and  so  we  wander  on  in  darkness, 
and  complain  of  the  many  perplexities  and 
uncertainties  of  life,  unmindful  of  the  light 
within  that  would  dispel  the  darkness,  and 
render  the  path  plain  and  easy  before  ua. 

IX* 


CHAPTER    XIX. 

'Have  you  been  to  the  post-office?"  in 
quired  the  two,  in  one  breath,  of  Lawrence, 
as  he  entered  their  room  at  the  hotel,  on  the 
evening  of  their  arrival  at  Leghorn. 

"  Yes,  but  with  no  results  to  any  one  but 
myself.     I  have  two  letters,  and  you  none." 

"The  selfish  wretch!  to  absorb  all  the 
news  for  his  own  private  consumption.  But 
you  will  perhaps  let  us  share  in  it,  at  least  if 
you  have  anything  of  a  general  character." 

"  One  of  my  letters  is  from  home,  and  the 
other  from  Mr.  Silver,  which  somewhat 
alters  my  plan  of  operations.  There  it  is. 
It  is  short  enough  :  read  it." 

Mason  read  as  follows  : 

"ft,  Y.,  Aug.  15. 
"  Mr.  F.  Lawrence  : — 

"  Since  y'r  leaving  N.  T. 
news  has  been  ree'd  of  the  failure  of  A , 

(1*6) 


FRED   LAWRENCE.  127 

B &    Co.,    cotton    manufacturers,    in 

Manchester,  Eng'd,  who  were  indebted  to  us 
in  the  sum  of  $4,500.  I  desire  that  you  will 
proceed  thither,  after  finishing  your  businesa 
in  Leghorn,  if  possible  in  time  for  the  meet- 
ing of  creditors.  Should  the  settlement  be 
delayed,  you  can  leave  the  business  in  the 
hands  of  some  attorney  in  that  city. 
"  Yours, 

"  J.  R.  Silver."    • 

"  "What,  you  don't  mean  to  say  you  are 
going  to  England?"  said  Mason,  as  he 
finished  the  letter. 

"  That  looks  like  it,  don't  it?  Did  not  I 
tell  you,  Charley,  that  everything  turns  out 
just  right  in  the  end  ?  I  was  quite  discon- 
tented not  to  stop  in  England,  as  I  came  ; 
and  now  it  seems  I  shall  see  the  mother 
country,  after  all." 

"  You  are  a  fortunate  fellow,  Fred.  I 
have  the  most  unbounded  faith  in  your  good 
luck      T  sh*  uld  like  to  go  with  you.     "V  i 


128  FRED    LAWRENCE. 

promised  to  keep  you  company  until  yon 
Bailed  for  home." 

"  I  should  like  it  grandly,  of  course  ;  but 
it  would  be  absurd  for  you  to  be  flying  over 
the  country  by  steam,  as  we  business  men  are 
obliged  to  do." 

"  '  We  business  men !'  how  dignified !  I 
declare,  Fred,  you  will  look  comical,  rep- 
resenting the  firm  in  a  meeting  of  credi- 
tors." 

"  I  imagine  I  shall  feel  comically,  too.  I 
shall  have  to  borrow  a  grey  wig  and  a  gold- 
headed  cane." 

"  And  stoop  a  little,  and  affect  the  gout," 
said  Miller.  "  I  would  recommend  the  study 
of  Shylock,  in  order  to  prepare  yourself  for 
the  mission.  Perhaps  you  might  even  see  it 
played  at  some  theatre  in  London." 

"  I  shall  hardly  have  time,"  replied  Law- 
rence, "  to  study  my  part  so  thoroughly.  If 
Mr.  Silver  wished  to  be  perfectly  represented 
he  should  have  come  himself.  One  thing  ia 
certain,  I  must  expedite  matters  here,  so  as 


FRED    LAWREXCE.  129 

to  lose  as  little  time  as  possible  in  getting 
home." 

"No  doubt  your  worthy  employer  there 
regrets  very  much  that  you  could  not  have 
gone  to  England  on  your  outward  voyage, 
so  as  to  lessen  the  expenses  of  the  journey  to 
him." 

"  Well,  that  is  right  enough.  I  regret  it, 
too,  as  far  as  his  interests  are  concerned,  and 
for  that  reason  I  want  to  accomplish  all 
these  affairs  as  quickly  as  possible." 

"  Don't  kill  yourself,  though,  Fred  ;  I 
rather  think  Mr.  S.  can  afford  you  time 
enough  to  transact  his  own  business." 

"  Well,  the  case  is  just  here,  Charley.  On 
this  trip  my  time  is  not  exactly  my  own,  and 
I  should  not,  of  course,  take  a  longer  route, 
or  spend  an  hour  on  my  own  gratification 
that  should  be  employed  in  business.  When 
1  make  the  tour  of  Europe  for  the  mere 
pleasure  of  it,  it  shall  be  at  my  own  expense, 
and  I  will  not  owe  a  penny  to  any  man. 
But  since  my  travels  are  now  thus  neces- 


130  FRED   LAWRENCE. 

sarily  extended,  I  will  be  thankful  to  Provi- 
denee,  and  not  to  Mr.  Silver,  and  make  the 
most  of  the  odd  minutes  to  see  and  learn 
what  I  can." 

The  affairs  in  Leghorn  were  expedited  as 
much  as  possible,  and  in  three  days  Lawrence 
was  ready  for  his  northward  journey.  The 
only  regret  was  in  leaving  the  two  friends 
whose  pleasant  companionship  had  increased 
tenfold  the  interest  of  his  travels  thus  far#i 
In  a  day  or  two  he  had  traversed  France 
from  south  to  north,  and,  crossing  the  narrow 
channel,  stood  for  the  first  time  on  English 
soil.  It  was  almost  like  a  return  home,  to 
hear  once  more  his  native  language,  and  to 
be  in  the  midst  of  places  so  intimately 
associated  with  the  history  of  our  fore- 
fathers. 

With  regret  he  hastened  from  London, 
leaving  behind  him  its  treasures  of  instruc- 
tion, among  which  months  night  easily  be 
spent  without  exhausting  them.  As  he 
passed,  with  the  speed  of  steam,  through  the 


FRED   LAWRENCE,  131 

richly  cultivated  country  that  surrounds  the 
great  metropolis,  objects  that  it  had  been  hi  a 
life-long  wish  to  visit,  seemed  to  vanish  from 
his  sight  like  the  yisions  of  a  dream. 

One  week  our  traveller  was  detained  in 
Manchester — a  busy,  bustling  city,  but  with 
much  less  to  awaken  a  stranger's  interest 
than  most  of  its  sister  cities  Of  the   same 

kingdom.     The  affairs  with  A ,  B & 

Co.  were  at  length  brought  to  a  satisfactory 
conclusion,  and  the  first  Saturday  in  October 
found  our  traveller  in  Liverpool,  with  pas- 
sage engaged  in  one  of  those  grai  d  ocean 
steamers  that  form  the  pride  of  our  countrj 
and  of  the  age. 


CHAPTER   XX. 

*  Oh  I  'tis  harae,  'tis  hamo,  'tis  hame  wad  I  be  I" 

If  the  enthusiasm  that  attends  the  com 
mencement  of  a  voyage  had  partly  died 
away  in  the  fatigues  of  a  long  journey,  it 
was  not  with  the  less  happiness  that  Frederic 
found  himself  once  more  upon  the  deck  of 
the  steamer,  with  the  broad  expanse  of  sky 
and  water  spread  out  before  him.  Distance 
has  some  of  the  attributes  of  time,  and  the 
six  weeks  spent,  thousands  of  miles  from 
home,  surrounded  by  language  and  social 
customs  entirely  foreign,  seemed  longer  than 
many  a  year  of  unvaried  routine. 

Home  and  its  inmates  seemed  like  a  beauti- 
ful dream,  to  which  distance  lent  even  more 
than  its  natural  enchantment. 

Ten  or  twelve  days  seemed  an  endless 
time  to  intervene  before  he  could  see  them 
(132) 


FRED    LAWRENCE.  133 

again.  It  was  the  time  for  home-sickness. 
The  excitement  of  the  trip  was  past,  with  its 
opportunities  for  improvement ;  the  novelty 
of  a  voyage  was  exhausted  ;  his  mind  stretch- 
ed eagerly  forward  to  the  reunion  with  the 
loved  ones  at  home. 

There  was  little  left  to  examine  about  the 
steamer,  and  the  attention  of  our  traveller 
was  occupied  chiefly  with  his  fellow-passen- 
gers. 

The  company  on  board  the  steamer  Agoph 
consisted  chiefly  of  American  families  re- 
turning from  a  summer's  tour  in  Europe 
Many  had  evidently  gone  for  fashion's  sake, 
or  for  relief  from  the  insupportable  ennui  of 
a  life  devoted  wholly  to  amusement. 

There  were  ladies  who  had  been  studiously 
acquiring  a  Parisian  air  and  accent,  which, 
together  with  a  cargo  of  laces  and  embroider- 
ies, were  to  constitute  their  irresistible  attrac- 
tions for  the  ensuing  season.  There  were 
gentlemen  who,  in  importing  a  genuine  French 
valet,  with  an  unlimited  quantity  of  Lubin's 
12 


134  FRED   LAWRENCE. 

various  manufactures,  were  adding  the  finish- 
ing touch  to  the  climax  of  their  social  perfec- 
tions. There  were  matrons  of  the  fashiona- 
ble world,  who  had  submitted  to  a  European 
voyage  as  a  duty  to  themselves  and  to  their 
daughters,  and  blessed  their  stars  for  every 
night  that  terminated  one  day  of  the  self- 
inflicted  penance.  There  were  persecuted 
papas,  with  the  visage  of  despair,  as  they 
thought  of  enormous  bills  already  presented, 
who  rued  the  day  when  their  consent  had 
been  obtained  to  such  a  round  of  foolish  ex- 
travagance. 

It  was  rather  amusing  to  watch  the  group- 
ings of  these  characters  as  they  met  in  the 
familiar  intercourse  of  sea-life.  The  gentle- 
men could  use  up  the  day  quite  tolerably 
with  cigars  on  deck,  or  billiards  in  the  cabin, 
but  the  ladies — the  fashionable  ones,  we 
mean — avoided  the  open  air  as  if  it  were  in- 
fectious. If  the  ocean  was  grand,  as  people 
said,  were  their  beautiful  faces  to  be  made 
burnt  sacrifices  to  il  ? 


FRED    LAWRENCE.  135 

In  the  midst  of  the  little  museum  on  board, 
our  student  of  the  world-college,  unnoticed 
ond  unobtrusive,  was  amusing  himself  with 
illustrated  studies  of  human  nature.  There 
is  no  machine  more  interesting  in  its  compli- 
cated workings  than  the  human  mind,  and 
he  who  has  learned  to  study  it  intelligently 
will  never  want  for  entertainment,  even  in 
the  dullest  circumstances  where  two  or  three 
are  gathered  together. 

The  passengers  of  the  steamer  were  not  all 
included  in  the  classes  we  have  named.  There 
were  some  who  were  returning  from  the 
Old  World,  enriched  by  the  enjoyment  of  its 
treasures  of  art,  without  having  lost  a 
love  for  their  own  country,  or  the  honest 
simplicity  of  republican  manners.  They 
wished,  if  it  were  possible,  to  transplant  to 
American  soil  all  that  the  Old  World  has  of 
beauty  and  refinement,  without  absurdly 
aping  the  details  of  foreign  customs. 

Among  these  were  an  old  gentleman  and 
bis  daughter,  who  were  returning  to   their 


136  FRED    LAWRENCE. 

home  in  New  York  after  a  year's  residence 
in  Europe.  From  meeting  him  every  day 
upon  deck  in  his  morning  walks.  Frederic 
gradually  formed  rather  more  than  a  passing 
acquaintance  with  this  gentleman  ;  and  such 
was  the  winning  affability  of  his  manner, 
that  from  a  simple  '  good-morning'  in  answer 
to  his  daily  salutation,  Fred  soon  found  him- 
self entering  into  long  conversations,  and 
talking  not  only  upon  general  subjects,  but 
of  himself  and  his  affairs,  as  to  a  familiar 
friend.  There  was  nothing  of  cold  curiosi- 
ty in  Mr.  Russel's  manner  of  drawing  him 
out  upon  these  subjects,  nor  yet  of  indiffer- 
ence, as  if  he  formed  the  acquaintance  mere- 
ly to  pass  away  the  time  ;  a  cordial  interest 
in  the  welfare  of  others  shone  in  every  look, 
and  spoke  in  every  word. 

Mr.  Russel  was  a  merchant  from  New 
York.  After  accumulating  a  princely  for- 
tune, he  had  withdrawn  from  active  employ- 
ment, devoting  his  old  age  to  the  promotion 
Of  the  happiness  an  i  improvement  of  his  only 


FRED    LAWRENCE.  137 

daughter  whom  the  death  of  her  mother  had 
left  entirely  to  his  care  and  attention.  After 
the  completion  of  her  course  of  study  in  a 
seminary  at  home,  they  had  travelled  to- 
gether over  the  most  interesting  portions  of 
our  own  country.  All  that  nature  can  be- 
stow upon  a  pure  and  aspiring  mind,  enlarg 
ing  its  scope  and  elevating  its  aims,  she  had 
sought  among  the  vast  lakes  and  the  mighty 
rivers,  the  mountains  and  the  valleys  of  her 
own  land.  A  year  in  Europe  had  now  been 
devoted  to  the  study  of  those  arts  and  ac- 
complishments which  add  happiness  and  re- 
finement to  the  home  circle. 

Display  was  the  last  thing  contemplated 
in  Emily  Russel's  education.  Her  father, 
dreading  lest  his  child  should  be  corrupted 
by  the  social  influences  among  which  his 
wealth  would  naturally  have  placed  her, 
chose  to  live  aloof  from  the  gay  world,  at 
least  until  her  character  should  be  strength- 
ened, that  she  might  be  proof  against  its  faa^ 
cinations.  The  result  was,  that  Emily  Bus 
12* 


138  FRED   LAWRENCE. 

sel  added  to  the  charm  of  a  vigorous  and 
well  cultivated  mind  all  the  grace  and  ele- 
gance of  deportment  which  true  refinement 
can  bestow,  without  that  artificial  polish 
which  only  renders  more  visible  the  shallow- 
ness of  a  mind  whose  highest  life  is  in  so- 
ciety. 

Our  Frederic  could  not  have  been  con- 
sidered a  very  susceptible  youth.  His  mind 
had  been  for  years  too  much  occupied  in 
solid  acquisitions  to  wander  off  in  quest  of 
romance,  and  the  names  of  mother  and  sister 
were  the  only  ones  that  had  ever  maintained 
a  special  place  in  his  regard.  Nevertheless 
he  must  not  be  too  severely  judged,  if,  in  the 
long  unoccupied  days  of  the  homeward  voy- 
age, strange  day-dreams  began  to  sweep 
over  his  thoughts  like  clouds  over  a  June 
f meadow.  The  more  accustomed  a  mind  has 
been  to  intense  activity,  the  more  wild  and 
romantic  are  its  musings  when  shut  up  from 
the  possibility  of  action.  An  ocean  voyage 
Is  a  curious  interregnum  in  a  busy  life.     Cut 


FRED    LAWRENCE.  139 

off  from  one's  usual  scene  of  activity,  with 
long  days  to  be  passed  away  before  another 
field  for  exertion  can  open,  the  thoughts  and 
fancies  enjoy  a  vacation,  and  are  sure  to 
revenge  themselves  by  sport  and  frolic,  for 
the  usual  restraint. 

And  so,  as  he  studied  the  motives  which 
actuated  the  little  world  in  which  he  was 
placed,  and  learned  to  distinguish  the  true 
excellence  and  refinement  from  the  false, 
Fred  came  quite  unconsciously  to  the  con- 
clusion that  there  was  not,  either  in  that 
little  world  or  in  the  larger  one,  another 
being  so  altogether  perfect  as  Emily  Russel, 
or  another  to  whom  he  would  so  willingly 
devote  the  service  of  a  life.  To  be  sure,  that 
sober  judgment  which  had  always  been  the 
ruling  principle  of  his  life,  pronounced  these 
fancies  completely  absurd  ;  and  Frederic, 
like  a  sensible  youth  as  he  was.  coincided 
with  his  judgment ;  but  the  fancies  had  their 
own  way,  after  all. 

"  If  she  were  only  poor,"  he  said  to  him* 


140  FRED   LAWRENCE. 

self — "  but  it  shall  never  be  said  that  Fred' 
eric  Lawrence  became  rich  by  a  fortunate 
match.  No,  no !  I  will  make  m)r  own  for- 
tune,— I  am  equal  to  that.  1  hope, — and  then — 
Pshaw !  this  lazy  voyage  life  has  made  a  fool 
of  me.  Soon  I  shall  have  something  to  do 
and  think  of,  and  then  I  shall  be  free  from 
these  idle  fancies." 

Would  those  long  dull  days  never  come 
to  and  end?  It  seemed  as  if  between  him 
and  his  home  there  was  a  great  gulf  fixed. 
Perhaps  it  was  only  distance,  which  can  bo 
indefinitely  compressed  but  never  wholly 
annihilated  by  human  power. 


CHAPTER    XXI. 


"  Sraii  art  thou,  0  man  I  as  a  buoble  on  a  breaker, 
Weak,  and  governed  by  externals,  like  a  poor  bird  caught  hi 
a  storm." 


The  passage  had  been  somewhat  impeded 
by  unfavorable  winds,  so  that  it  was  not 
until  the  tenth  day  that  the  steamer  ap- 
proached the  banks  of  Newfoundland,  and 
plunged  into  the  region  of  mists  and  fogs 
that  hang  over  them.  Even  this  least  agree- 
able part  of  the  journey  was  hailed  by  the 
weary  passengers  as  one  stage  nearer  home. 
Yet,  as  the  fog  became  denser  through  the 
night,  so  that  with  the  morning  light  an  un- 
practised eye  could  not  distinguish  an  object 
ftt'half  the  ship's  length,  a  spirit  of  gloom 
and  despondency  seemed  to  settle  over  the 
whole  company.  The  captain  was  evidently 
keeping  a  sharp  look-out ;  and  some  lines  of 
anxiety  were  visible  on  his  usually  unread- 

(Hi) 


142  FRED   LAWRENCiS. 

able  countenance.  The  sailors  went  about 
their  duties  without  word  or  audible  sound ; 
and  from  the  upper  deck  they  looked  like 
phantoms  springing  from  the  mist  and  vanish- 
ing into  it  again. 

It  was  seven  o'clock  when  Frederic  came 
on  deck,  though  the  obscurity  made  it  appear 
at  least  an  hour  earlier.  It  was  a  damp 
autumnal  morning,  and  the  raw  sea  air  sent 
a  chill  along  the  veins  not  more  conducive 
to  cheerfulness  than  comfort. 

Still  onward  the  good  ship  plunged  through 
the  darkness,  checking  not  one  pulsation  of 
her  mighty  heart,  beating  the  dark  waters 
with  the  firm,  regular  strokes  of  her  iron 
arm,  the  grandest  expression  of  man's  power 
and  pride  amid  the  mighty  works  of  Nature 
The  heavy  tone  of  the  bell  mingled  with  1h 
sound  of  the  machinery  and  the  voice  of  many 
waters  ;  but  that  which  was  meant  for  warn- 
ing and  protection  seemed  to  many  like  the 
knell  of  impending  destruction. 

Frederic  was  not  subject  to    fear ;    he 


FRED    LAWRENCE.  143 

rather  enjoyed  a  sense  of  danger  as  adding 
variety  to  the  feeling  of  life  and  strength. 
Nevertheless,  his  nature  was  not  so  shallow 
as  to  view  with  trifling  or  thoughtlessness 
the  contingencies  of  an  hour  like  this.  As 
he  stood  upon  the  deck  and  gazed  upon  the 
grey  curtain  of  twilight  which  closed  over 
the  narrow  view,  though  he  felt  no  trembling, 
there  was  a  deep  sense  of  the  littleness  of 
human  power,  and  the  Almightiness  of  Him 
who  holdeth  the  waters  in  the  hollow  of  His 
hand. 

At  eight  o'clock  the  passengers  were 
assembled  as  usual,  at  breakfast.  The  cap- 
tain spoke  cheerfully  of  their  prospects.  The 
fog  was  indeed  much  denser  than  usual,  but 
there  was  no  certainty  of  danger.  They  were 
far  enough  from  the  coast,  and  the  steamer 
could  push  on  through  the  calm  waters  as 
safely  in  darkness  as  in  light.  A  few  hours 
at  the  usual  rate  would  place  them  beyond 
the  misty  curtain,  and  beneath  a  clear  sky, 
he  hoped.     They  niiglit  reach  Halifax  that 


144  FRED   LAWKENCE. 

very  afternoon,  and  then  two  or  three  days 
would  bring  them  to  New  York. 

After  the  morning  meal,  many  of  the  pas- 
sengers went  on  deck  for  air  and  exercise, 
and  Frederic  returned  to  his  post  of  obser- 
vation. The  fog  seemed,  if  possible,  denser 
than  before.  Sea  and  sky  were  covered  with 
an  impenetrable  curtain  of  mist,  which  ren 
dered  the  sun  completely  invisible,  only  his 
dim  diffused  rays  shedding  a  little  light 
through  the  obscurity.  The  company  of 
promenaders  on  deck  seemed  to  feel  the 
natural  influence  of  the  scene.  The  gay  con- 
versation which  had  been  commenced  on 
deck,  as  if  by  an  effort,  gradually  assumed  a 
more  subdued  tone,  and  died  away  into 
silence. 

Suddenly  a  deafening  crash,  and  a  violent 
shock  made  the  mighty  ship  tremble  in  every 
timber.  A  moment  of  awful  silence  fol- 
lowed, in  which  some  looked  into  each  other's 
faces  with  pale  dismay,  or  clung  instinctively 
to  the  nearest  support.    A  dark  apparition 


FRED    LAWRENCE.  145 

like  a  phantom  ship  was  visible  a  moment  at 
the  bows,  and  then  disappeared  into  the 
darkness.  Then  there  was  the  faint  sound 
of  a  human  voice  attempting  to  hail  from 
the  stranger  vessel,  but  the  rushing  waters 
prevented  words  from  being  distinguished, 
and  the  two  ships  were  borne  quickly  apart 
by  the  action  of  the  waves. 

Then  came  the  buzz  of  inquiry  ;  and  con- 
fusion took  the  place  of  the  momentary  still- 
ness.  There  was  hurrying  to  and  fro,  call- 
ing for  life-boats,  life-preservers,  etc.,  every 
sound  adding  terror  to  the  scene  without 
procuring  relief.  The  hysterical  cries  of 
many  who  lost  all  self-control  communicated 
the  panic  to  others ;  and  those  who  viewed 
the  scene  more  calmly,  were  hardly  to  be 
censured  if  they  wished  that  the  hour  of 
decision  might  hasten. 

The  captain  sought  to  still  the  confusion 
by  his  voice  of  authority,  and  for  a  moment 
gained  the  attention  of  the  excited  multi- 
tude ;  as,  mounted  upon  the  wheel-house,  ha 
13 


146  FRED   LAWRENCE. 

exclaimed  with  his  utmost  strength  of  voice, 
"  There  is  no  need  of  alarm.  We  have  run 
into  a  schooner  and  sustained  a  slight  injury 
in  the  bows.  We  are  within  three  hours  of 
Halifax.  We  can  undoubtedly  reach  that 
port  in  safety." 

The  tumult  was  hushed  for  a  moment,  but 
fears  were  not  so  easily  dispelled.  The  ship 
had  begun  to  settle  down  toward  the  bows, 
and  the  deck  slanted  at  a  fearful  inclina* 
tion.  It  was  a  group  with  pale  faces  and 
trembling  voices  that  assembled  in  the  cabin. 
Wives  sought  their  husbands,  children  clung 
closely  to  their  parents,  and  some,  who  had 
no  earthly  refuge,  put  their  trust  in  a  better 
friend,  the  Almighty  Father. 

Frederic  Lawrence  still  retained  his  posi- 
tion on  the  upper  deck.  There  was  none  in 
all  that  little  busy  world  that  sought  his  aid, 
or  cared  for  his  safety,  or  even  remembered  - 
his  existence.  He  did  not  believe  the  word3 
of  the  captain ;  it  was  too  evident  that  the 
Bhip  would  not  sustain  them  above  the  waves 


FRED    LAWRENCE.  147 

another  hour  ;  but  he  stood  calmly  awaiting 
the  moment  when  he  must  cast  himself  into 
the  rolling  waters.  He  thought  of  mother, 
and  of  home  ;  and  with  those  thoughts  came 
more  forcibly  than  ever  to  his  mind  the 
words  she  had  taught  him  there  in  earliest 
childhood  :  "  What  time  I  am  afraid,  I  will 
trust  in  Thee."  "  For  Thou  only  makest  me 
to  dwell  in  safety."  A  calm  and  cheerful 
trust  filled  the  place  that  fear  had  de- 
manded. 

He  looked  about  to  see  if  any  one  needed 
his  assistance.  Emily  Russel  was  standing 
with  her  father  at  a  little  distance,  leaning 
against  the  railing.  She  was  wrapped 
closely  in  a  large  shawl ;  her  face  was  pale, 
but  her  eyes  had  an  expression  of  hope  and 
confidence  that  was  almost  sublime.  At  this 
moment  her  father,  who  had  been  earnestly 
examining  the  lower  deck,  exclaimed  : 

"There  is  a  life-boat  that  ought  to  be 
launched.  No  one  seems  to  have  noticed  it. 
I  must  leave  you  one  instant,  my  darling,  to 


148  FEED    LAWRENCE. 

Bpeak  to  the  captain,  and  demand  a  place 
for  us." 

"Alone,  father  ?"  said  Emily,  with  quiver- 
ing lips. 

"  I  will  not  be  out  of  sight  one  second , 
you  can  watch  me.  Mr.  Lawrence,"  said  he, 
catching  sight  of  Frederic,  "  may  I  ask  you 
to    stand    here    one   moment,   while  I   am 


gone 


v 


"  Certainly,  sir,"  said  Frederic,  springing 
with  alacrity  to  his  post  of  duty. 

It  was  no  time  for  words  ;  and  even  had 
there  been  less  danger  to  absorb  their 
thoughts,  neither  was  so  in  bondage  to  the 
laws  of  etiquette  as  to  consider  it  necessary 
to  maintain  conversation  in  all  times  and 
places.  Emily  stood  watching  her  father, 
her  eyes  devouring  every  movement,  as  he 
forced  his  way  through  the  crowd  on  the 
lower  deck,  and  reached  the  place  where  the 
captain  stood.  Frederic  was  gazing  at  the 
ship,  which  now  began  to  roll  with  a  more 
uneasy  motion,  as  if  some  new  advantage 


FRED    LAWRENCE.  149 

had  bceu  gained  by  the  element  of  destruc- 
tion. 

Suddenly  there  was  a  violent  plunge,  and 
a  hollow,  gurgling  sound,  as  the  water  filled 
the  hold,  and  the  ship  sunk  with  her  lower 
deck  beneath  the  waves. 

"  Father  !  father  !"  Emily  shrieked,  but 
there  was  no  voice  to  answer.  One  by  one, 
movable  articles  floated  up  from  the  buried 
deck,  and  among  them  the  quick  eye  of 
Frederic  discerned,  or  he  thought  he  did, 
human  heads  striving  to  hold  their  way 
above  the  force  of  the  current.  But  there 
was  not  a  moment  for  waiting  or  observa- 
tion. 

"  Let  me  fasten  your  shawl  more  closely," 
said  he  quickly — "  it  will  serve  as  a  life-pre- 
server." 

Emily  submitted  without  a  word  ;  her  eyes 
were  wandering  anxiously  over  the  place 
where  the  deck  had  disappeared — all  con 
sciousness  of  herself  was  merged  in  the 
thought  of  her  father.  While  Frederic  was 
1H* 


150  FRED    LAWRENCE. 

looking  about  for  the  best  place  from  which 
to  plunge  into  the  waves,  the  necessity  of  a 
choice  was  saved  them  :  for,  with  another 
convulsive  movement,  the  upper  <7eck,  their 
resting-place,  sank-  beneath  the  surface  of 
the  water. 

There  was  a  momentary  shock,  the  sense 
of  suffocation,  as  the  cold  waves  closed  over 
them  ;  then,  almost  immediately,  they  floated 
to  the  surface.  Frederic  was  an  expert 
swimmer  ;  but  it  required  one  strong  arm  to 
support  his  almost  fainting  charge,  while 
with  the  other  he  directed  their  course  out 
from  the  currents  and  eddies  around  the 
sinking  ship.  There  was  little  use  in  swim- 
ming, even  had  it  been  possible.  The  port 
was  at  least  ten  miles  distant,  and  the  only 
human  hope  was  from  the  little  fishing  ves 
«els  which  frequent  the  waters  in  its  vicinity. 
All  that  could  be  done  was  to  float  upon  the 
surface  until  rescue  could  arrive.  Frederic 
was  sensible  only  of  strong  will  and  desper 
ate  exertion — a  clinging  to  strength  and  con 


FRED    LAWRENCE.  151 

gciousness  when  it  seemed  as  if  both  were 
deserting  him  ;  and  weeks  and  months 
seemed  to  have  passed  away  while  astro- 
nomic measurements  would  have  numbered 
but  a  few  hours.  Then,  at  last,  there  was 
the  impression  of  being  lifted  up  by  human 
hands,  and  laid  to  rest ;  and,  with  the  neces- 
sity, the  power  of  exertion  vanished  :  he  was 
in  a  state  of  unconsciousness. 


CHAPTER    XXII. 

Gradually  Frederic  returned  to  life  and 
consciousness.  Hours  must  have  passed,  for 
it  was  night.  He  was  alone  in  a  small  but 
neat  and  comfortable  apartment,  which  re- 
minded him  of  the  room  he  had  occupied  in 
the  hotel  at  Manchester.  Little  by  little 
the  impression  dawned  upon  him  that  he  was 
on  land,  for  the  motion  of  the  ship  was 
gone  ;  the  only  sensation  was  that  of  perfect 
rest. 

Yet  it  was  long  before  curiosity  was  ex- 
cited as  to  his  present  condition  ;  the  mere 
sense  of  being,  of  the  newness  of  life,  was 
enough  to  satisfy  every  want.  Life,  that 
had,  a  few  hours  ago,  been  suddenly  with- 
drawn, seemed  just  dawning  upon  him  anew, 
as  if  he  were  indeed  a  little  child.  The  feel- 
ing of  strength  and  self-reliance  that  had 
(152) 


FRED    LAWRENCE.  153 

been  dominant  in  his  mind,  had  given  way 
to  a  humble  and  childlike  trust :  and,  as  the 
thought  of  renewed  activity  returned,  it  was 
mingled  with  the  resemblance  of  a  divine 
power  that  must  supply  the  energy  with 
which  to  act. 

The  varied  scenes  and  events  of  his  life 
passed  in  review  like  a  panorama,  while 
half  recovered  from  the  exhaustion  he  lay  in 
a,  dreamy  state  between  sleeping  and  waking. 
Memory  only  was  awake,  while  all  conscious- 
ness or  interest  in  the  present  lay  dormant. 
Realities  were  like  dreams,  and  dreams  as 
solid  as  realities  ;  but  in  either  he  seemed  to 
have  no  personal  interest  except  as  a  specta- 
tor. At  last,  a  vision,  long  forgotten,  rose  in 
distinct  remembrance.  It  was  his  boyhood's 
dream,  in  which  he  had  been  a  knight  errant, 
and  rescued  a  beautiful  princess  from  a  de- 
vouring monster.  In  groping  through  the 
past  he  seemed  to  have  touched  a  spring  that 
answered  in  the  present.  The  incident  of 
the  last  twelve  hours  began  to  float  before 


154  FRED   LAWRENCE. 

him  like  phantoms  in  the  misty  ligh  t  of  men* 
ory.  And  then  a  fancied  similarity  between 
the  two  flashed  upon  his  mind  so  strangely, 
that  he  awoke  with  a  smile  into  a  more  vivid 
consciousness. 

"  Where  was  he  ?  how  came  he  there  ? 
Had  Emily  survived  the  perils  of  that  hor- 
rible morning  ?  Had  her  father  ever  risen 
from  that  ill-fated  deck  ?  Were  the  other 
passengers  safe  ? — how  selfishly  he  had  been 
rejoicing  in  the  consciousness  of  safety,  re- 
gardless of  the  fate  of  others  !" 

With  an  impulse  almost  of  shame,  Frederic 
started  up,  and  violently  pulled  the  bell-rope 
that  hung  within  reach  of  his  hand.  A 
waiter  appeared. 

"  Tell  me  what  place  this  is,"  exclaimed 
Frederic,  hastily. 

"It  is  the  Royal  'otel  in  'alifax,"  replied 
the  waiter,  with  a  grin. 

"  How  long  have  I  been  here,  and  how  did 
I  come  ?" 

"  You  was  br<r  ught  into  the  'arbor,  I  'eard, 


FRED   LAWRENCE.  155 

by  a  fishing  smack,  from  the  wreck  of  the 
Hagoph.  An  old  gentleman  brought  you 
'ere  in  a  carriage  this  noon,  with  a  young 
lady  that  was  saved  by  the  same  boat." 

"  They  are  safe,  then, — the  old  gentleman 
and  his  daughter  ?" 

"  Yes,  sir,  the  gentleman  had  you  put  in 
this  room — his  own  is  close  by — and  came 
and  staid  by  you  till  you  came  out  of  the 
faint  and  went  to  sleep.  I  thought  he  was 
your  father,  sir,"  continued  the  waiter,  confi- 
dentially. 

"  No,"  said  Frederic.  "  How  many  of  the 
passengers  escaped  ?" 

"  There  was  near  fifty  brought  here,"  said 
the  waiter,  glad  to  find  another  listener  to 
his  more  than  twice-told  tale  of  gossip. 
"  Most  all  of  them  came  to,  after  a  while, 
but  I  believe  there  was  one  or  two  drown- 
ed." 

"  That  is  all  I  want,  I  believe,"  said  Fred- 
eric ;  "  you  may  bring  me  a  cup  of  tea ;  1 
shall  not  leave  my  room  to-night." 


156  FRED    LAWRENCE. 

The  waiter  soon  returned,  bringing  a  card 
1  with  Mr.  Russel's  compliments,  and  would 
like  to  see  Mr.  Lawrence  when  it  was  con- 
venient.' 

"  Give  my  respects  to  Mr.  Russel,"  said 
Frederic,  "  and  say  that  I  will  wait  upon 
him  to-morrow  morning." 

It  was  a  clear  October  morning  when 
Frederic  awoke,  refreshed  by  the  quiet  re- 
pose of  the  night.  The  dreamy  fancies  of 
the  previous  evening  had  vanished,  and  he 
began  to  look  at  his  circumstances  in  a  more 
business-like  manner.  Some  means  must  be 
found  for  completing  his  journey  ;  by  this 
time  he  had  hoped  to  be  at  home. 

Then  he  recollected  Mr.  Russel's  message ; 
and,  improving  his  toilette  as  much  as  the 
scanty  resources  at  hand  would  permit,  he 
went  forth  to  ascertain  the  time.  It  wa? 
already  nine,  and  after  a  hasty  breakfast  he 
presented  himself  at  the  door  of  that  gentle 
man's  private  parlor. 

Emily  was  seated  in  an  arm-chair,  looking 


FRED    LAWRENCE.  l5*7 

pale  and  exhausted  ;  but  her  face  lighted  up 
with  a  happy  smile  as  he  entered.  Mr. 
Russel  met  him  at  the  door,  and  shook  both 
hands  several  minutes  before  he  could  utter 
a  word. 

"  You  have  saved  my  only  treasure,"  said 
he  at  last,  in  a  broken  voice  ;  "  an  old  man's 
gratitude  is  yours." 

"  I  only  did  my  duty,  sir,"  said  Fred- 
eric. 

"  But  you  did  it  nobly,  young  man  ;  I  must 
know  more  of  you  in  future  ;  I  will  not 
depreciate  your  generous  action  by  offering 
service  or  influence  or  anything  else  as  a 
return  for  it ;  but  you  must  allow  me  at 
least  the  privilege  of  a  friend.  Spend  your 
time  with  us,  at  least  when  it  is  agreeable  to 
you,  and  we  will  contrive  to  pass  the  hours 
away  pleasantly  untr  we  can  start  again  for 
home." 

"  How  long  shall  we  probably  be  detained, 
father  ?"  asked  Emily. 

"  Not  more  than  three  or  four  days  ;  for 
14 


158  FRED   LAWRENCE. 

the  steamer  of  the  other  line  is  expected  on 
Saturday." 

"  It  seems  a  long  time  to  wait,"  said  Emily, 
with  a  sigh. 

"  I  think  we  should  make  ourselves  con- 
tented, my  dear,  since  we  carry  all  of  home 
with  us  but  the  place.  There  is  no  one,  you 
know,  to  expect  our  arrival,  or  be  anxious 
at  the  delay.  With  Mr.  Lawrence  I  believe 
the  case  is  different." 

"  My  only  uneasiness,"  said  Frederic,  "  is, 
lest  my  mother  and  sister  may  hear  of  the 
wreck,  and  be  in  great  suspense  as  to  my 
fate." 

"  We  must  telegraph  immediately  to  re- 
lieve their  anxiety.  I  am  going  out  soon 
for  a  little  walk,  and  will  see  to  it." 

" "  Is  it  not  giving  you  too  much  trouble, 
sir  ?  I  was  going  "o  the  telegraph  office 
this  morning." 

"  No,  no  !  I  shall  prescribe  perfect  rest  for 
you  to-day.  I  have  not  so  much  need  of  it, 
you  know.     So,  if  you  young  people  will 


FRED    LAWRENCE.  159 

amuse  yourselves  awhile,  I  will  go  now,  that 
no  time  may  be  lost." 

Mr.  Eussel  soon  returned  to  say  that  the 
wires  were  undergoing  repairs,  and  that  no 
messages  could  be  sent. 

"  There  is  one  comfort,"  said  he.  If  no 
dispatches  are  sent,  of  course  they  can 
receive  no  news  that  will  awaken  anxiety. 
I  took  care  to  put  our  names  in  full  on  the 
list  of  the  saved,  so  the  first  account  of  the, 
danger  will  tell  also  of  the  escape." 


CHAPTER    XXIII. 


Oh  !  when  the  hour  to  meet  .again 

Creeps  on, — and,  spccrling  o'er  the  sea, 
My  heart  takes  up  its  lengthened  chain, 

And,  link  by  link,  draws  nearer  thee,— 
When  port  is  gained,  and  slowly  now 

The  old  familiar  paths  are  passed, 
And  entering,  unconscious  how, 

I  gaze  upon  thy  face  at  last, 
And  feel  thy  tears  upon  my  cheek, — 

Then,  mother  !  'twill  he  like  a  dream 
That  wo  were  parted." 

Willis. 


Three  days  passed — as  agreeably  as  would 
be  possible  to  travellers  longing  for  home, 
and  thus  suddenly  cut  off  from  the  approach 
to  it.  Mr.  Russel  sought  every  means  of 
amusement  to  occupy  the  time,  and  banish 
home-sickness.  When  strength  was  suffi- 
ciently restored,  they  took  long  rides  in  the 
environs  of  the  city,  not  specially  interesting 
or  beautiful  as  compared  with  many  other 
cities,  but  furnishing  a  pleasant  relief  from 

(160) 


FRED   LAWRENCE.  16i 

the  ennui  of  ship-life,  and  the  monotony  of 
the  hotel. 

Nevertheless,  all  were  rejoiced  when,  at 
the  end  of  the  week,  a  steamer  of  the  other 
line  arrived,  on  the  way  to  New  York,  and 
the  passengers  of  the  lost  ship  were  trans- 
ferred to  her.  Frederic  knew  what  torturing 
anxiety  must  be  felt  at  home,  if  the  intelli- 
gence of  the  wreck  had  arrived,  and  the 
utmost  speed  of  steam  could  not  satisfy  his 
impatience  to  relieve  their  suspense. 

It  was  late  in  the  evening  when  the 
steamer  reached  the  dock  in  New  York. 
(Jnincumbcred  by  baggage,  our  traveller 
rapidly  traversed  the  distance  that  still 
separated  him  from  home.  It  was  but  two 
months  since  he  had  trod  the  same  streets, 
after  bidding  farewell  to  mother  and  sister  : 
yet  how  strange  every  old  familiar  object 
now  seemed !  It  was  as  if  he  had  been  on  a 
pilgrimage  of  years,  and  he  felt  as  if  great 
changes  must  have  taken  place. 

A  few  minutes  brought  him  to  the  well 
14* 


it) 2  FRED    LAWRENCE. 

known  door.  Addie  answered  bis  summons, 
and  foil  into  his  arras,  with  a  cry  of  joy. 
She,  poor  child,  had  heard  of  the  disaster, 
and  had  borne  the  whole  weight  of  solici- 
tude alone,  rather  than  communicate  it  to 
her  mother.  The  news  of  the  wreck  had 
arrived  by  a  small  vessel  which  left  Halifax 
on  the  morning  of  the  disaster,  but  there 
was  no  report  of  the  names  or  number  of  the 
saved.  Mrs.  Lawrence  seldom  read  the» 
papers,  depending  upon  her  daughter  for  an 
account  of  the  news  of  the  clay  ;  and  having 
seen  no  one  else  recently,  had  heard  not  the 
slightest  rumor  of  the  wreck.  Addie  had 
eagerly  searched  every  paper  for  the  least 
mention  of  the  missing  Agoph  ;  but  had  been 
careful  to  conceal  or  destroy  all  that  con- 
tained any  allusion  to  its  wreck. 

It  was  only  when  her  son  was  restored  to 
her,  in  health  and  safety,  that  Mrs.  Lawrence 
learned  of  the  perils  he  had  encountered. 
It  was  too  late  then  for  anxiety,  but  still  it 
was  with  a  trembling  joy  that  she  listened  to 


PEED   LAWRENCE.  1G3 

the  story  of  his  adventures.  Poor  Addie, 
losing  all  the  calmness  she  had  so  bravely 
assumed  during-  those  days  of  suspense,  could 
only  cling  sobbing  to  her  brother,  fearing 
lest  the  happy  dream  might  vanish.  Every 
incident  of  peril  and  escape  was  lived  over 
again  by  the  eager  listeners :  and  earnest 
thanksgivings  arose  that  night  from  the 
happy  little  household. 

A  few  days  later,  during  Frederic's  absence 
at  business,  his  mother  received  a  call  from 
Mr.  Russel.  His  heart  was  still  overflow- 
ing with  gratitude  for  the  preservation  of 
his  child  ;  and  no  words  seemed  enough  to 
express  his  admiration  of  the  courage  and 
presence  of  mind  displayed  in  the  rescue. 

"  You  have  reason,  madam,  to  be  proud  of 
uch  a  son.  Never  have  I  found,  in  one  of 
his  age,  so  exalted  a  sense  of  honor,  witli 
such  unaffected  modesty.  He  really  did  not 
seem  to  be  conscious  that  his  noble  deed  was 
in  any  way  remarkable,  or  worthy  of  praise  , 
while  I  am  sure  that  very  few  young  per- 


164  FRED   LAWRENCE. 

eons,  alone,  in  circumstances  of  sucn  fearful 
danger,  would  have  thought  of  anything 
more  than  their  own  escape.  I  had  left  my 
daughter  for  one  moment  to  speak  to  the 
captain,  upon  the  lower  deck,  at  the  very 
instant  when  the  ship  sunk.  As  it  went 
down  I  received  a  blow  upon  the  head  from 
soDie  movable  article,  which  rendered  me 
insensible  for  several  minutes ;  while  my 
poor  child,  orphaned  for  the  time  being, 
would  have  been  left  to  the  mercy  of  the 
waves,  but  for  your  son's  generous  efforts. 

"  I  had  fallen — by  chance,  it  seemed,  or 
rather,  providentially — upon  the  life-boat, 
which  had  at  that  moment  been  lowered  OB 
to  the  deck.  When  I  recovered  from  the 
temporary  lapse,  no  trace  could  be  found  of 
my  child,  though  we  searched  the  spot  where 
the  wreck  had  disappeared.  We  were  soon 
perceived,  however,  by  a  little  fishing  vessel, 
which  was  on  the  search  for  persons  from 
the  lost  ship  ;  and  on  going  on  board  I  bad 
the  joy  of  finding  my  lost  treasure  uninjured, 


FRED    LAWRENCE.  165 

while  her  brave  deliverer,  his  strength  com- 
pletely exhausted,  had  fallen  apparently  life- 
less. Thank  God,  that  rest,  and  the  buoy- 
ancy of  a  youthful  constitution,  have  restored 
him  to  us  and  to  you  again !  Excuse  it,  if  1 
have  wearied  you  with  this  narration,  the 
main  incidents  of  which  you  already  know  ; 
but  I  feared  your  son's  humility  would  not 
permit  him  to  do  himself  justice." 

"  It  is  never  wearisome,  I  believe,  to  a 
mother,  to  hear  of  her  son's  right  actions," 
said  Mrs.  Lawrence,  with  a  smile  of  maternal 
pride.  "  But  what  you  have  mentioned,  sir, 
as  an  act  of  heroism,  was  still,  I  think, 
nothing  more  than  the  performance  of  a 
duty  ;  and  I  should,  indeed,  be  disappointed 
if  my  son  were  found  wanting  to  the  claims 
of  duty  in  such  an  emergency." 

"  Few,  persons,  madam,  have  so  elevated  a 
standard  of  duty.  Among  strangers,  espe- 
cially in  travelling,  selfishness  seems  to  be 
the  rule,  and  benevolence  the  exception. 
Disinterestedness,  if  it  exists,  seldom  extendi 


166  FRED   LAWRENCE. 

beyond  the  merest  trifles.  I  wish  more  of 
our  young  people  could  be  educated  as  your 
son  has  been,  to  this  noble  spirit  of  self- 
sacrifice.  But  you  will  allow  me,  I  trust,  in 
some  inquiries  as  to  the  manner  of  his  edu- 
cation. If  I  trespass  beyond  the  privilege 
of  an  almost  stranger,  it  is  not  from  imper- 
tinent curiosity.  Our  common  peril,  and 
my  debt  of  gratitude,  have  drawn  us  very 
near  together  ;  and  as  I  watched  over  his 
bedside,  awaiting  anxiously  the  first  sign  of 
life,  you  will  not  wonder  that  my  feeling 
was  rather  that  of  a  father  for  a  son,  than 
stranger  for  stranger.  But  I  was  speaking 
of  education.  I  have  derived  a  singular 
pleasure  from  the  acquaintance  I  formed 
with  him  during  the  few  days  of  our  resi- 
dence'together  ;  and  I  have  been  scarcely 
less  surprised  at  the  extent  of  his  acquire- 
ments than  at  his  courage  and  generosity. 
Yet  he  informs  me  that  he  has  never  been  at 
college." 
"  He  has  not,  though  it  was  a  cherished 


FRED    LAWRENCE.  167 

plan  during  his  childhood,  that  he  should 
receive  a  liberal  education.  It  was  quite  a 
disappointment  to  him  when  it  was  decided 
that  he  must  give  up  his  hopes  of  study,  and 
devote  his  life  to  business." 

"  And  yet,  apparently,  he  has  not  lost  very 
seriously  by  the  disappointment.  Among 
the  graduates  of  our  colleges  you  seldom 
find  greater  mental  cultivation,  while  in  real 
force  of  mind  and  general  intelligence  there 
are  few  who  equal  him.  But  he  has  surely 
pursued  some  systematic  course  of  study  and 
self-discipline  ?  " 

"  He  fully  determined,  on  leaving  school, 
four  or  five  years  ago,  that  he  would  not 
remain  uneducated,  though  deprived  of  the 
ordinary  means  of  instruction.  This  reso- 
lution, whether  expressed  in  writing,  I  know 
not,  has  evidently  had  a  forming  influence 
upon  his  whole  life.  Of  course,  studying 
only  in  the  intervals  of  business,  he  has 
labored  under  some  difficulties  in  the  effort 
to  concentrate  his  attention ;  but  I  think 


168  FRED   LAWRENCE. 

the  effort   has    itself   been    of   service    to 
him." 

"It  must  have  been,  for  his  mind  has 
acquired  strength  in  the  attempt  to  over- 
come obstacles.  For  my  own  part,  while  I 
am  far  from  undervaluing  our  institutions  of 
learning,  I  believe  there  is  more  in  the  duties 
and  emergencies  of  life  to  develop  the  real 
energies  of  the  mind,  than  in  a  mere  scho- 
lastic discipline.  One  that  is  willing  and 
prepared  to  profit  by  the  teaching  of  events, 
will  not  want  intelligence  or  real  mental 
power." 


CHAPTER    XXIV. 


"  Ah  !  if  our  souls  but  poise  and  swing 
Like  a  compass  in  its  brazen  ring, 
Ever  level  and  ever  true 
To  the  toil  and  the  task  we  have  to  do, — 
The  sights  we  see  and  the  sounds  we  hear 
Will  be  those  of  joy  and  not  of  fear." 

LOXGFEIXOW. 


Mr  Russel  might  well  be  selected  as  a 
model  of  a  man  of  wealth.  He  enjoyed  suc- 
cess in  commercial  life,  without  the  narrow- 
ing effect  which  it  often  has  upon  the  char- 
acter. The  desire  of  wealth  which  had 
prompted  his  early  efforts,  was  not  the  mere 
selfish  instinct  of  avarice,  but  the  wish  to 
wield  a  power  for  the  good  and  happiness 
of  his  fellow-men  in  a  -wide  circle,  and  to 
gratify  the  noblest  tastes  of  a  refined  and 
cultivated  mind.  His  riches  had  been  the 
source  of  bounty  and  blessing  to  all  within 
the  sphere  of  his  influence.  His  sympathies 
15  (M»> 


170  FRED    LAWRENCE. 

were  universal,  and  there  were  none  within 
his  knowledge  who,  through  misfortune  or 
incapacity,  suffered  the  evils  of  poverty,  who 
did  not  receive  in  some  delicate  and  unosten- 
tatious manner  the  material  expression  of 
that  sympathy.  While  the  public  and  whole- 
sale charities  of  the  day  received  his  hearty 
support,  it  was  in  these  less  known  and 
more  personal  deeds  of  kindness  that  he 
found  the  greatest  delight. 

Especially  to  those  who  were  commencing 
their  career  in  life,  his  sympathy  and  encour- 
agement were  always  cordially  extended. 
His  friendship  for  them,  when  once  estab- 
lished, had  all  the  enthusiastic  warmth  of 
youth,  with  the  firmness  and  judicious  coun- 
sel of  later  age.  He  entered  into  all  their 
plans  with  disinterested  zeal,  encouraged 
every  high  aim  and  generous  effort,  and,  by 
every  means  in  his  power,  assisted  them 
toward  success.  He  seemed  to  value  the 
station  he  had  attained,  only  for  the  sake  of 
lifting  others  to  the  same  level;  and  both 


FRED    LAWRENCE.  1?1 

money  and  influence  were  freely  devoted  to 
this  end. 

For  Frederic  Lawrence,  Mr.  Russel  had 
conceived  an  almost  fatherly  interest.  He 
resolved  that  if  his  wealth  or  influence  could 
produce  any  effect,  that  young  man  should 
succeed  as  well  as  he  deserved  in  life  ;  for, 
without  doubting  in  the  least  that  an  all- 
arranging  Providence  is  sure  to  reward  dili- 
gence and  moral  worth,  Mr.  Pussel  con- 
sidered it  a  privilege  to  be  the  special  agent 
of  that  Providence. 

As  a  first  step,  he  proposed  to  Lawrence 
a  situation  in  the  large  publishing  establish- 
ment in  which  he  was  partner. 

"  I  want  you  under  ray  own  eye,"  said  lie. 
"for  no  one  else  can  have  as  much  interest  in 
your  success  as  myself.  Then,  if  you  like  the 
business,  your  way  will  be  cleai  to  become  a 
member  of  the  firm  ;  for  that  is  always  under- 
stood in  our  establishment ;  those  who  have 
been  long  with  us,  and  proved  themselveg 
faithful,  have  the  preference  to  stranger*." 


172  FRED   LAWRENCE. 

"  You  are  very  kind,  sir.  I  would  like  a 
few  days  to  consider  the  question  before 
making  a  decision.  I  have  been  thinking 
that  I  ought  to  make  choice  of  an  employ- 
ment for  life,  in  order  to  become  thoroughly 
acquainted  with  its  details  before  the  time 
comes  for  going  into  business  for  myself." 

"  Certainly  a  matter  like  this  should  not 
be  decided  hastily.  You  have  not  chosen 
the  dry-goods  business  as  a  permanence, 
then  ?" 

"  No,  sir.  I  accepted  my  present  situa- 
tion because  it  was  the  only  one  that  of- 
fered. As  a  book-keeper,  it  is  of  compara- 
tively little  importance  what  department  of 
merchandise  I  have  to  do  with  ;  but  if  I  am 
ever  to  hold  a  different  position  I  should 
have  a  great  deal  of  choice." 

"  You  are  quite  right  in  looking  forward 
to  a  different  position,  and  providing  for  it 
in  time.  What  kinds  of  business  have  you 
had  in  mind  ?" 

"I  have  given  the  subject  but  little  thought 


FRED    LAWRENCE.  173 

as  yet.  The  chief  objection  to  the  dry-goods 
business  is  its  insecurity.  But  I  would  also 
like,  if  possible,  an  employment  which  is  in 
itself  improving  ;  and  nothing,  perhaps, 
would  answer  that  purpose  so  well  as  the 
book  business." 

"  The  ruling  passion,"  said  Mr.  Russel, 
with  a  friendly  smile,  "  and  a  very  worthy 
passion  it  is.  Self-culture  is  one  great  ob- 
ject in  life,  and  the  most  important  means 
to  what  we  are  told  is  its  '  chief  end.' " 

"  I  do  not  know  but  I  have  made  it  in  it 
self  the  chief  end,"  said  Frederic,  after  a 
moment's  pause.  "  Being  deprived  of  the 
privileges  which  many  enjoy,  I  have  been 
obliged  to  make  my  daily  employments,  as 
far  as  possible,  a  means  of  education." 

"  Making  them  serve  the  very  purpose  for 
which  God  ordained  them.  But  there  are 
other  objects,  doubtless,  which  you  would 
like  to  effect  by  your  business." 

"  Yes,  sir,  and  its  direct  object  is  by  no 
means  the  least.  I  have  many  motives  for 
15* 


174  FRED   LAWRENCE. 

desiring  -wealth,  if  it  can  be  honorably 
gained." 

"  Of  course  ;  everybody  desires  it,  and 
rightly  too,  when  the  desire  is  not  excessive. 
But  tell  me  now,  why  you  would  like  to  be 
rich  ;  for  you  are  apt  to  know  the  reasons 
of  things,  and  I  fancy  it  is  not  a  mere  sordid 
love  of  money  that  would  actuate  you." 

"  The  first  and  strongest  reason  is  very 
personal.  I  am  the  only  son,  Mr.  Russel, 
and  my  mother  is  a  widow.  I  wish  to  pros- 
per in  life,  for  her  sake.  But  then,  wealth  is 
a  great  power  in  the  world  as  it  now  is,  aDd 
I  suppose  there  are  few  that  have  not  some 
ambition  for  the  exercise  of  power.  There 
are  many  objects  to  be  accomplished  in  the 
way  of  public  improvements  and  charities, 
which  now  I  can  only  look  on  and  wish  that 
some  one  would  undertake  ;  and  it  seems  to 
me  it  would  be  far  more  pleasant,  instead  of 
planning  for  others,  to  take  hold  and  do  the 
work  myself." 

"  Yery  true — wealth  rightly  used  is  '  twice 


FRED   LAWRENCE.  175 

blessed.'  But,  as  to  the  means  of  attaining 
it,  one  should  make  up  his  mind  in  the  be- 
ginning that  a  forf  une  cannot  be  made  in  a 
day.  Many  a  man  has  been  spoiled  by  too 
great  haste  to  be  rich." 

"  I  should  greatly  prefer,"  said  Frederic, 
"  some  sure  and  safe,  though  slow  business. 
I  should  have  a  sort  of  pride  in  fairly  earn- 
ing my  success,  if  I  attain  it.  The  satisfac- 
tion must  be  greater  in  the  end  than  if 
wealth  were  the  result  of  a  fortunate  specu- 
lation." 

"  I  see  you  need  no  help  in  deciding  the 
question  wisely.  Well,  think  it  over,  and 
let  me  know  your  decision  as  soon  as  it  ia 
made.'' 


CHAPTER    XXV. 

"  My  daughter  will  be  happy  to  see  you 
to-morrow,"  said  Mr.  Russel,  as  he  parted 
with  his  young  friend  on  the  last  day  of  the 
year.  "  You  make  some  New  Year's  calls, 
I  presume  ?" 

"  A  few,  sir,  and  I  shall  not  fail  to  pay  m) 
respects  to  Miss  Kussel." 

It  was  a  splendid  morning  that  ushered  in 
the  new  year.  The  clear  and  bracing  air, 
the  brilliant  contrast  of  snow-covered  roofs 
with  the  deep  blue  sky,  the  merry  music  of 
sleigh-bells  already  on  the  jingle  for  the 
day's  festivities,  were  all  in  keeping  with  the 
general  exhilaration  of  spirits  that  seemed 
to  reign  throughout  the  great  cities  which 
cluster  around  the  region  of  New  Nether 
lands. 

According  to  the  custom  of  the  good  old 
(176) 


FRED    LAWRENCE.  177 

Dutch  settlers,  the  streets  were  filled  with 
callers,  on  their  way  to  exchange  the  con- 
gratulations of  the  season  with  the  whole 
circle  of  their  acquaintance.  Exclusiveness 
for  once  is  laid  aside,  and  general  hospital- 
ity and  good-will  are  the  presiding  spirits. 
Long  live  the  good  old  custom  !  If  abuse 
has  marred  its  benefits,  and  social  cheer  has 
heightened  into  unnatural  revelry,  under  a 
poisonous  stimulus,  let  us  banish  the  poison, 
and  return  to  the  free  and  uncorrupted  cor- 
diality of  the  olden  time. 

It  was  late  in  the  afternoon  when  Fred- 
eric Lawrence  turned  his  steps  in  the  direc- 
tion of  Mr.  Russel's  mansion.  Within  a  lit- 
tle distance  of  it,  he  met  a  young  man  whom 
he  had  known  familiarly  in  the  way  of  busi- 
ness, though  with  his  social  standing  he  was 
quite  unacquainted. 
"  Is  that  you,  Lawrence  ?  Good-evening." 
"  Good-evening,  Marston.  You  are  going 
my  way,  it  seems.  Where  are  you  going  to 
to  call  ?" 


178  FRED   LAURENCE. 

"  On  Miss  Russel,  in  Fourteenth  street." 

"  You  know  her,  then  ?" 

"  Know  her  !  guess  I  do,  and  what's  more, 
I  mean  to  cultivate  the  acquaintance  as  fast 
as  possible.  To  tell  the  truth,  I  have  some 
hopes  in  that  direction.  Old  man's  pretty 
rich,  you  know." 

"  I  believe  he  is,"  said  Frederic 

"  But  you  are  going  there,  too.  Are  you 
acquainted  with  Miss  Emily  ?  "  * 

"  Slightly.  I  am  acquainted  with  her 
father  in  business  matters,"  said  Frederic, 
with  the  feeling  that  it  was  sacrilege  to  men- 
tion Emily  Russel  in  such  a  connection. 

The  house  of  Mr.  Russel  was  in  perfect 
keeping  with  the  character  of  its  owner. 
Stately  and  sumptuous  as  his  wealth  de- 
manded, there  was  yet  an  air  of  home-like 
comfort  in  the  atmosphere  which  pervaded 
it,  which  greeted  one  with  a  welcome  at  the* 
very  threshold.  The  warm  tints  of  the  walla 
and  carpets  inspired  a  feeling  of  cheerful- 
ness, without  a  consciousness  of  whence  it 


FRED   LAWRENCE.  179 

came ;  and  the  unaffected  ease  and  hospi- 
tality which  reigned  among  all  the  inhab- 
itants of  the  house  from  master  to  footman, 
made  one  feel  at  hon  e  from  the  first  moment. 

The  parlors  were  furnished  in  a  style 
which  conformed  sufficiently  to  the  fashions 
of  the  time,  and  yet  was  evidently  the  result 
of  a  taste  rather  of  the  massive  o7.d  English 
order.  Nothing  seemed  designed  nerely  for 
show,  and  yet  an  elegant  taste  had  found 
use  for  so  many  beautiful  objects,  that  the 
most  fastidious  lover  of  ornament  must  have 
been  satisfied.  The  pictures  were  all  select- 
ed, and  the  position  of  each  so  judiciously 
chosen,  that  it  seemed  almost  a  necessary 
part  of  its  own  work.  In  short,  all  the 
articles  of  comfort  or  taste  were  so  harmoni- 
ously disposed,  that  nothing  seemed  in  excess. 

Emily  Russel  was  receiving  company  for 
the  first  time  since  the  death  of  her  mother. 
For  the  two  preceding  years  she  had  been 
absent  from  home  ;  and  of  the  many  who 
called  on  this  day,  either  from  friendship  for 


18U  FRED    LAWRENCE. 

her  father,  or  to  renew  their  acquaintance 
with  the  family,  very  few  were  well  known 
to  her.  She  would  gladly  have  excused  her- 
self from  thus  alone  performing  the  honors 
as  lady  of  the  mansion ;  but  her  father's 
earnest  wish  prevailed,  and  she  consented  to 
act  the  part. 

He  had  himself  selected  her  dress  for  the 
occasion,  and  her  appearance  certainly  did 
honor  to  his  choice.  A  natural  anxiety  to 
acquit  herself  well  of  the  duties  of  her  new 
position,  cast  a  slight  shade  of  timidity  over 
her  address,  but  could  not  destroy  its  grace- 
ful dignity  as  she  received  and  entertained 
her  guests. 

Marston  had  long  been  on  terms  of  famil- 
iarity, as  their  families  were  distantly  re- 
lated. Lawrence  was  received  with  a  frank 
and  friendly  cordiality  which  rendered  him 
at  once  perfectly  at  ease.  He  had  not  met 
Emily  since  he  had  left  the  steamer,  on  their 
arrival  in  New  York.  Though  the  thought 
of  her  had  been  a  frequent  one  during  the 


FRED   LAWRENCE.  181 

interval,  every  word  and  look  now  recalled 
to  him  with  new  distinctness  the  scene  of  the 
wreck.  He  avoided  any  allusion  to  it,  how- 
ever, and  the  conversation  ran  on  indifferent 
subjects  ;  the  "  small  talk"  which  with  very 
different  degrees  of  tact  and  grace  in  ita 
management  is  supposed  to  constitute  the 
universal  currency  of  New  Yeai  's  day. 

A  generous  entertainment  was  spread  in 
the  back  parlor,  and  thither  the  guests  were 
invited  as  they  arose  to  take  leave. 

"  Let  me  pour  you  a  glass  of  wine,  Mr, 
Lawrence,"  said  the  fair  lady  of  the  mansion, 
as  she  advanced  to  a  side-table,  on  which 
stood  a  massive  silver  service. 

"  Thank  you,  Miss  Russel,  I  will  take 
lemonade  in  preference." 

"  And  you,  Mr.  Marston  ?  " 

"  Certainly,  if  you  please.  A  glass  so 
offered  is  not  to  be  declined." 

It  was  very  far  from  the  first  glass  Mar- 
etou  had  taken  that  day,  with  precisely  the 
game  excuse ;  and  Lawrence  began  to  see 
16 


182  FRED   LAWRENCE. 

the  cause  of  the  talkativeness  that  had  so 
surprised  and  disgusted  him  during  their 
walk  in  the  street. 

But  for  himself,  Frederic  questioned,  was 
it  necessary  to  be  so  strict  ?  It  would  be 
the  first  and  only  glass  that  day,  and  was  it 
not  a  rudeness  to  decline  ?  It  was  strange 
that  Emily  Russel  should  be  the  tempter  to 
wrong,  she  who  stood  so  near  his  ideal  of 
perfection.  Could  she  offer  anything  that 
was  not  pure  and  right ?  "No! "  he  said  to 
himself,  "  I  would  peril  my  life  again  for 
her,  but  I  will  not  peril  my  principles.  She 
knows  not  what  she  doing  ;  this  is  mere  con- 
formity to  custom.  She  canno  t  have  weighed 
the  consequences  as  I  have  done."  These 
thoughts  flashed  through  his  mind  while 
Marston  was  most  politely  sipping  the  fata] 
glass  which  wrought  his  already  over-tasked 
brain  to  the  pitch  of  intoxication. 

"  Do  you  never  take  wine,  Mr.  Lawrence? 
Or,  is  it  only  fo:-  the  present  occasion  that 
you  refupe  ?  " 


FRED    LAWRENCE.  183 

"  I  could  not  decline  it  from  your  hand, 
Miss  Russel,  except  in  obedience  to  a  reso- 
lution long  since  formed." 

"  In  that  case  it  would  be  wrong  to  urge 
you,"  replied  Emily,  but  a  slight  shade, 
either  of  disappointment  or  displeasure  re- 
mained upon  her  brow. 

Marston's  talk  now  so  clearly  revealed 
his  mental  condition,  that  it  seemed  expe- 
dient to  Lawrence  to  hasten  their  departure. 
This,  however,  was  no  easy  task  ;  for  he 
was  so  stupidly  contented,  draining  glass 
after  glass,  stammering  his  unmeaning  com- 
pliments, and  becoming  every  moment  more 
satisfied  with  himself  and  complacent  to- 
ward others,  that  it  required  almost  force  to 
withdraw  him  from  the  room.  Emily's  face 
grew  pale  with  terror  at  this  most  abhorrent 
of  sights,  brought  into  her  immediate  pres- 
ence ;  and  her  imploring  looks  said  to  Law- 
rence what  she  dared  not  say  in  words,  ask- 
ing to  be  relieved  of  the  painful  scene. 

At  last  lie  yielded  to  Frederic's  persua- 


184  FRED   LAWRENCE. 

sions,  and  as  they  emerged  into  the  jold  night 
air,  a  glimmering  consciousness  of  his  con- 
dition seemed  to  dawn  upon  him. 

"  Where  am  I,  and  what  hare  I  been 
doing?"  he  exclaimed,  seizing  Fiederic'a 
arm  for  support,  though  the  latter  would 
gladly  have  kept  at  a  greater  distance. 

"  What  you  may  be  sorry  for  to-morrow 
morning,"  he  replied.  "  And  now,  if  you  will 
tell  me  where  your  home  is,  I  will  see  you 
there ;  for  you  will  never  be  able  to  find  it 
alone." 

"  They  walked  a  few  squares  in  silence, 
proceeding  from  shame  in  the  one,  and  dis- 
gust in  the  other ;  when  Lawrence,  after 
seeing  Marston  safely  deposited  on  his  own 
doorsteps,  took  his  leave. 

As  he  pondered  the  incidents  of  the  hour, 
during  his  solitary  walk,  Frederic  did  not 
find  occasion  to  alter  his  resolution  with 
regard  to  wine-drinking.  He  had  never 
seen  so  near  an  illustration  of  the  degrading 
effects  of  such  an  indulgence,  but  the  decision 


FRED    LAWRENCE.  185 

which  he  had  formed  by  reflection,  and  under 
the  influerce  of  early  instruction,  seemed 
fully  warranted  by  the  facts  in  the  case. 
The  more  closely  he  viewed  the  subject,  the 
more  it  seemed  to  him  a  marvel — that  any 
persons,  of  elevated  character,  could  conscien- 
tiously place  such  temptation  in  the  way  of 
their  guests.  Yet,  on  Emily's  part,  he 
insisted  to  himself,  it  must  be  a  mistake  :  she 
could  not  know  till  she  had  seen  the  effects 
of  the  subtle  poison.  How  her  father  could 
have  sanctioned  it,  knowing,  as  he  must,  the 
ways  of  the  world,  and  the  temptations  of 
the  young,  was  the  problem.  He  wished  he 
could  hear  Mr.  Russel's  opinion  on  the  sub- 
ject. To  ask  it  now  would  be  too  great  a 
liberty. 

Yet  Mr.  Russel,  he  remembered,  was  of  a 
wealthy  old  English  family,  and,  doubtless, 
to  him  the  custom  of  wine-drinking  was 
sanctioned  by  long  usage.  Perhaps,  blinded 
by  early  association,  he  did  not  readily  per- 
ceive that  what  is  safe  in  an   equable  or 


186  FRED   LAWRENCE. 

depressing  climate,  among  a  staid  and  uniin- 
passioned  people,  may  be  vastly  different  in 
a  climate  where  the  very  air  contains  suffi- 
cient stimulus,  and  a  thousand  excitements 
are  driving  the  people  to  the  verge  of  in- 
sanity, in  the  mere  pursuits  of  daily  life. 


CHAPTER    XXVI. 

Lrt  as  turn  Lack  to  the  hospitable  man- 
sion, where  its  youthful  mistress  is  left  alone. 

"  0  God !  what  have  I  done  ?"  she  ex- 
claimed, throwing  herself  into  an  arm-chair, 
and  pressing  both  hands  to  her  throbbing 
temples ;  "  Is  this  the  result  of  my  attempts  at 
hospitality?  Have  I  been  dealing  out  poison, 
thinking  I  was  offering  a  most  innocent 
entertainment?  Oli !  I  am  but  a  child,  and 
motherless  ;  and  yet  I  must  bear  the  respon- 
sibility of  holding  my  place  in  social  life, 
and  contributing  to  the  happiness  or  misery 
of  those  who  surround  me.  May  God  guide 
me,  for  I  am  weak,  and  the  way  is  dark." 

"  How  have  you  enjoyed  your  New  Year's, 
my  pet  ?"  said  her  father,  as  he  entered  the 
parlor,  on  returning  from  his  own  calls. 

"  I  should  be  very  ungrateful,  dear  father, 

(187) 


188  FRED   LAWRENCE. 

not  to  have  enjoyed  it,  when  you  have  done 
everything  to  make  me  happy." 

"  And  yet,  by  that  pale,  sober  face,  you 
have  only  tried,  to  be  happy,  as  a  matter  01 
duty.  You  are  tired,  my  darling;  a  whole 
day  of  company  is  too  much  for  you." 

"  Oh,  no,  papa ;  I  am  not  so  feeble  as  that, 
but  you  know  I  am  not  used  to  being  the 
1  Lady  of  the  Manor.' " 

"But  I  see  traces  of  tears.  Come,  tell 
me,  dear  child,  has  anything  happened  to 
trouble  you  ?" 

"  Not  much,  papa ;  but  please  tell  me  one 
thing.  Is  it  right — are  you  sure  it  is  quite 
right — to  offer  wine  to  our  guests  ?" 

"  To  be  sure  I  am,  my  child  ;  but  what  has 
put  that  into  your  little  head  now  ?" 

"  Father,  an  hour  ago  Henry  Marston  was 
here,  and  left  completely  intoxicated." 

"  He  did,  the  dog !  then  he  shall  never 
enter  my  house  again,  to  insult  my  daughter 
in  that  way.  Were  you  alone  when  he 
called?" 


FRED    LAWRENCE.  i89 

"  No,  father  ;  Mr.  Lawrence  came  with 
hira,  or  else  I  do  not  know  bow  lie  would 
ever  have  gone  away.  I  could  do  nothing, 
of  course." 

"I  will  not  leave  you  alone  again,  my 
child.  I  did  not  think  I  was  exposing  you 
to  such  a  trial  when  I  wished  you  to  receive 
our  friends  to-day." 

"  I  was  thinking  not  of  the  trial,  but  the 
wrong  of  the  thing.  If  does  seem  to  me, 
father,  that  it  is  doing  injustice  to  our  guests 
to  place  such  a  temptation  in  their  way." 

"  It  is  on  their  own  responsibility  if  they 
yield  to  the  temptation,  Emmie." 

"  But,  father,  is  it  not  considered  rude  to 
refuse  wine,  when  offered  by  a  lady  ?  I  con- 
fess I  was  foolish  enough  to  think  so  when 
Mr.  Lawrence  declined  it ;  but,  as  I  have 
thought  it  over  since  they  went  away,  it 
appears  in  a  very  different  light." 

"  Lawrence  declined  it  from  you  ?  Well, 
he  does  not  know  yet  what  belongs  to  good 
manners ;  or  elsa  that  conscience  of  his  is 


190  FRED   LAURENCE. 

making  a  monk  of  him.  He  is  a  little  too 
rigid  now  and  then,  but  I  like  him  vastly  for 
all  that ;  don't  you,  puss  ?" 

"  Of  course  I  do,  father  ;  but  that  is  a 
matter  of  gratitude,  too,  you  know.  But, 
father,  I  believe  he  is  quite  right  on  the  wine 
question.  If  a  gentleman  has  from  fifty  to  a 
hundred  calls  to  make,  and  civility  requires 
him  to  drink  wine  at  every  place,  I  really 
don't  see  how  he  can  be  held  responsible  for 
the  possession  of  his  faculties  at  the  end  of 
the  time." 

"  You  make  too  many  allowances,  my  dear, 
for  other  people's  failings.  If  a  man  has  not 
sense  enough  to  control  his  actions,  he  has 
no  right  to  venture  into  the  presence  of 
ladies.  Most  persons  can  take  as  much  wine 
as  civility  requires,  without  making  fools  of 
themselves." 

"At  all  events,  dear  father,  I  cannot  be 
again  in  the  least  degree  responsible  for 
Buch  a  result.  I  know  why  you  wanted  me 
to  have  wine  on  the  table  ;  you  wished  to 


FRED   LAWRENCE.  191 

provide  everything  that  the  most  generous 
hospitality  could  require  ;  but,  if  you  are 
willing,  I  would  rather  dispense  with  this 
one  thing  hereafter.  There  are  enough 
other  articles  which  answer  all  the  purpose, 
and  are  perfectly  harmless.  I  will  take  all 
the  reproach,  if  there  he  any ;  hut  I  cannot 
again  incur  the  remorse  I  have  suffered  this 
evening." 

"  My  poor  little  dove !  if  you  hold  your*, 
self  responsible  for  all  the  evil-doings  you 
are  compelled  to  witness,  you  will  be  misera- 
ble indeed.  You  will  not  find  all  the  world 
as  pure  and  sensitive  as  your  own  little  con- 
science. But  of  one  thing  be  sure,  your 
father  never  will  urge  you  to  do  that  which 
gives  you  pain  ;  so  let  us  forget  the  troubles 
of  the  evening,  and  talk  of  something  more 
pleasant.  Which  do  you  like  the  best,  Mar- 
Bton,  or  Lawrence,  Emmie  ?" 

"  You  know  which  I  have  reason  to  like 
best  to-night,  papa." 

1  Certainly,  but  forget  that  now,  darling  ■ 


192  FRED    LAWRENCE. 

you  shall  never  see  Henry  Marston  again 
until  he  has  made  suitable  apologies  to 
me." 

"  I  think  it  would  be  better  to  say  nothing 
about  it,  father ;  only  I  will  decline  seeing 
him  if  he  calls  again.  I  have  no  right  to 
make  any  complaint  of  this  evening's  inci- 
dent, since  the  blame  was  partly  mine  ;  but 
I  have  wished  for  several  weeks  past,  that 
something  would  happen  to  prevent  Ids  call- 
ing." 

"  Why,  Emmie  ?" 

"  I  think,  father,''  replied  Emily,  the  color 
deepening  in  her  cheeks,  "  perhaps  I  am 
wrong  to  have  thought  so,  but  it  seems  to 
me  he  presumes  too  much  upon  the  acquaint- 
ance which  we  have  always  had  with  his 
family." 

"  Which  acquaintance  you  do  not  wish  to 
extend  to  him  ?" 

"  No,  papa ;  for  as  I  told  you,  I  do  not 
like  him  much." 

"  Well,  do  as  you  please,  my  dear  ;  I  am 


FRED   LAWRENCE.  193 

rather  inclined  to  agree  with  you  there. 
But  tell  me,  how  do  you  like  Lawrence  ?" 

"  Much  better,  papa.  It  seems  to  me  one 
might  trust  him  as  a  friend,  and  have  perfect 
confidence  in  his  principles  and  judgment  in 
all  cases." 

''  He  has  not  found  out  yet  that  your  old 
lather  is  rich,  eh  ?" 

"I  don't  know,  papa;  if  he  has,  he  treats 
me  with  no  more  deference  than  he  would 
any  other  lady.  But,  father,  do  you  know  it 
isn't  quite  pleasant  to  feel  under  so  deep 
obligations  to  an  almost  stranger  ?" 

"  He  has  not  reminded  you  of  it,  I  hope?" 

"  Oh,  no,  indeed !  he  has  never  made  the 
remotest  allusion  to  it,  except  when  you  have 
Introduced  the  subject,  and  then  he  seems  to 
regard  the  service  he  rendered  as  a  mere 
mutter  of  course." 

'•  I  think,  then,  you  need  not  trouble  your- 
self about  the  obligation,  Emmie.  Between 
generous  souls  gratitude  is  no  burden.  I 
shall  do  all  I  can  to  advance  his  interests, 
17 


194  FRED   LAWRENCE. 

not  imagining,  any  more  than  you  do,  that 
the  life  of  my  darling  is  to  be  purchased  or 
paid  for  by  any  amount  of  pecuniary  service. 
It  would  be  an  insult  to  regard  my  efforts  in 
his  behalf,  in  the  character  of  a  reward  ;  we 
will  place  it  all  on  the  friendly  basis  of 
mutual  service.  I  wish,  Emmie,  you  were 
acquainted  with  Lawrence's  sister." 

';  Have  you  seen  her,  papa  ?" 

"  I  had  a  moment's  glimpse  of  her  when  ]*. 
called  some  weeks  ago.  She  appears  like  a 
lovely  girl,  and  just  about  your  own  age. 
From  her  brother's  account  of  her,  I  should 
think  she  Avas  just  the  companion  you  want. 
You  are  not  so  exclusive,  I  suppose,  as  to 
desire  only  wealthy  acquaintances  ?" 

"  I  am  not  quite  so  foolish  yet,  I  hope.  In 
fact,  papa,  I  have  come  to  the  conclusion  to- 
night that  I  don't  like  people  w\o  have  al- 
ways been  rich." 

"I  have  never  been  very  poor,  Emmie." 

"  Well,  I  rather  like  you,  papa,  but  then 
that  is  differ ei.t     You  do  not  think  it  is  the 


FRED   LAWRENCE.  195 

chiet  end  of  life  to  make  a  dash  in  society. 
Besides,  you  made  your  own  fortune,  or  the 
most  of  it,  and  there  is  some  independence 
in  that." 

"  Why,  you  have  quite  a  fancy  for  enter- 
prising youths.  I  hope  I  shall  not  find  you 
have  run  away  one  of  these  moonlight  nights 
with  some  Young  America  who  is  going  to 
make  his  fortune  in  California.*' 

"  I  don't  think  I  shall  run  away  with  any- 
body to  leave  my  papa  all  alone.  No,  I  am 
going  to  stay  and  be  your  housekeeper  all 
my  days.'' 

"  I  shall  not  be  willing  to  part  with  my 
little  housekeeper  just  at  present.  But,  in 
the  meantime,  I  do  not  wish  to  keep  you 
mewed  up  here  alone ;  I  would  gather  around 
you  as  many  pleasant  companions  of  your 
own  age  as  possible.  But  I  will  confess  to 
you,  my  dear  little  girl,  that  1  have  wanted 
to  keep  you  aloof  from  general  society,  such 
as  it  is  here  in  the  city.  It  dissipates  the 
mind  and  renders  the  heart  shallow.    I  be- 


196  FRED    LAWRENCE. 

lieve  you  are  now  old  enough  to  select  for 
yourself,  and  will  not  be  dazzled  by  the  vain 
show  of  wealth  and  gayety." 

"Because  you  have  given  me  the  oppor- 
tunity, dear  father,  to  appreciate  something 
better.  You  have  shown  me  what  there  is 
in  the  world  of  real  beauty  and  grandeur 
and  nobility  of  soul ;  and  you  could  not  ex- 
pect that  I  would  come  back  to  be  satisfied 
with  mere  fashionable  life.  I  feel  now  the 
need  of  friends  who  will  help  me  to  im- 
prove." 

"  That  is  the  true  use  of  companionships — ■ 
choose  your  friends  slowly  and  with  care. 
Do  not  be  in  too  great  haste  to  have  a  large 
circle  of  acquaintances.  You  will  gradually 
be  surrounded  with  a  pleasant  and  profitable 
society  of  your  own.  To  begin,  I  am  quite 
sure  you  will  find  Miss  Addie  Lawrence  one 
whose  tastes  will  be  congenial  to  yours,  and 
perhaps  you  can  help  each  other  in  your 
favorite  pursuits." 


CHAPTER   XXVII. 

With  the  beginning  of  the  year,  Frederic 
Lawrence  entered  his  new  position  as  clerk 
in  the  publishing  house  of  Russel,  Howard 
&  Co.  The  change  was  a  most  agreeable 
one  to  him,  for  a  very  different  spirit  per- 
vaded the  establishment  from  that  which 
governed  the  contracted  dealings  of  his  for- 
mer employers.  The  firm  of  which  Mr. 
Russel  had  been  the  founder  was  still  gov- 
erned by  the  liberal  principles  of  action 
which  characterized  his  own  conduct.  The 
numerous  clerks  employed  were  treated  with 
such  generous  confidence,  that  their  interests 
seemed  identified  ,  with  those  of  their  em- 
ployers, and  the  selfishness  which  usually 
governs  business  transactions  had  little  room 
to  show  itself.  Frederc  rejoiced  in  the 
J7*  AW 


198  FEED   LAWRENCE. 

realization  of  his  idea  of  what  a  commercial 
establishment  might  and  ought  to  he. 

Added  to  this,  the  employment  itself  was 
far  more  to  his  taste  than  the  one  he  had 
left.  From  the  principle  of  association,  the 
very  names  and  aspect  of  books  had  a  charm 
for  him ;  and  the  mention  of  a  favorite 
author  would  call  up  so  many  pleasant 
images,  that  the  mere  details  of  debt  and 
credit  borrowed  a  brightness  from  it.  This 
is  perhaps  the  best  use  of  imagination,  to 
gild  with  its  own  light  the  dull  common- 
places of  "  work-day  life." 

In  the  meantime  our  hero  had  not  lost  his 
place  in  the  esteem  of  Mr.  Russel.  This 
gentleman,  the  more  closely  he  observed  the 
conduct  of  his  young  friend,  admired  the 
more  his  intelligence  and  ready  tact  in  com- 
mercial affairs,  and  above  all  his  scrupulous 
fidelity  in  the  performance  of  duty.  These 
were  distinguishing  traits  in  his  own  charac- 
ter, and  had  contributed  largely  to  his  suc- 
cess.    Such  qualities  furnished  a  ready  pass- 


FRED    LAWRENCE.  199 

port  to  his  favor,  and  wherever  found,  he 
marked  their  possession  as  one  to  be  encour 
tiged  and  assisted,  if  need  .were.  In  the 
present  case  he  wished  to  cultivate  the  ac- 
quaintance not  only  in  a  business  way,  but 
Socially.  Frederic  received  a  cordial  invi- 
tation to  call  often  and  familiarly,  an  invi- 
tation which  lie  was  glad  to  accept. 

Not  that  Frederic  entertained  any  plans 
or  hopes  for  the  future,  as  connected  with 
Emily  Russel.  With  the  routine  of  daily 
duty  had  returned  the  sober  and  sensible 
views  of  life  upon  which  he  had  always 
acted.  To  perform  faithfully  aud  well  the 
duties  of  a  sou  and  brother,  was  enough,  he 
concluded,  to  occupy  his  thoughts  for  many 
years  to  come  ;  it  would  be  simply  absurd  to 
contemplate  any  higher  social  responsibility. 
If  the  image  of  Emily  now  appeared  to  his 
mind  as  very  near  the  ideal  of  perfected 
humanity,  it  was  viewed  with  that  sober 
eatisfaction  with  which  we  dream  of  angels, 
while  we  trudge  patiently  along  with  mor 


200  FRED    LAWRENCE. 

tals  the  dusty  pathways  of  every-day  life. 
It  is  pleasant  to  think  that  some  are  perfect 
though  ourselves  are  not,  and  though  we 
may  not  live  in  their  presence. 

"  Calling  again  on  your  friends  in  New 
York?"  Addie  inquired,  as  her  brother 
returned  late  one  evening  in  the  spring. 
"  I  am  more  than  half  jealous  of  your  valued 
acquaintance  there,  Fred.  Fourteenth  street 
will  have  more  attractions  for  you  thaD 
home." 

"  Don't  be  afraid,  sister  mine,  that  any 
place  or  any  person  will  ever  destroy  the 
attractions  of  home  for  me.  I  think  you 
have  no  great  reason  to  be  alarmed,  for  I 
have  not  been  there  since  New  Year's.  But 
Mr.  Russel  has  so  cordially  invited  me  to 
call,  and  evidently  with  so  much  sincerity" — 

"  That  out  of  disinterested  regard  for  Mr. 
Russel's  wishes,  and  in  gratitude  for  hiu 
kindness  to  you,  you  have  felt  really  obliged 
to  comply  with  his  request.  You're  a  model 
of  self-sacrifice,  Fred." 


FRED    LAWRENCE.  201 

"  I  want  you  to  go  with  me  the  next  time 
I  call  there.  Miss  Russel  sent  a  very  polite 
and  cordial  invitation  to  you." 

"  I  don't  like  to  call  on  rich  people,  Fred. 
Not  from  any  silly  feeling  of  inferiority ; 
for  you  well  know  I  value  myself  neither 
moie  nor  less  for  being  poor;  but  I  hate 
any  tiling  that  could  possibly  seem  like  aspir- 
ing to  what  is  called  a  higher  level  in 
society." 

"  So  do  I,  Addie  ;  I  have  pride  enough  to 
stand  on  my  own  character,  I  hope,  without 
regard  to  the  mere  accident  of  wealth  or 
poverty.  If  I  thought  any  such  distinction 
was  regarded  by  Mr.  Russel,  I  would  never 
enter  his  house.  But  you  will  find  them 
very  different  from  most  of  our  acquaint- 
ances who  are  wealthy.  They  seem  to  for- 
get the  fact  themselves,  and  use  money  only 
as  a  means  of  comfort  and  refinement.  Miss 
Russel  has  litth)  or  nothing  to  do  with  fash- 
ionable society  and  from  choice,  because  she 
has  a  taste  foi  something  higher.     She  told 


202  FRED   LAWRENCE* 

me  that  she  had  very  few  friends,  as  yet,  in 
the  city,  and  would  be  glad  to  make  your  ac- 
quaintance." 

"  Well,  Fred,  I  shall  be  happy  to  go.  I 
really  have  some  interest  in  meeting  Misa 
Efcus'sel,  since  she  has  taken  your  fancy  bo 
completely.  But  whose  call  do  you  think 
you  have  lost,  by  being  away  this  evening  ?"' 

"  I  cannot  guers,  so  you  will  have  to  tell 
me." 

"  Your  two  companions  in  your  European 
travels." 

"  What '.  Charley  Mason  home  again  ?" 

"  Yes,  and  Mr.  Miller,  who,  it  seems,  is  to 
remain  some  time  in  the  city.  They  were 
disappointed,  of  course,  not  to  meet  you,  but 
promised  to  call  again,  very  booh." 

The  call  was  made  at  Mr.  Russel's  before 
'many  weeks,  and  greatly  to  the  satisfaction 
of  all  parties.  Emily  and  Addie  had  too 
many  tastes  in  common,  to  need  a  long  time 
for  the  forming  of  an  acquaintance.  They 
had  read  the  same  books,  were  interested  in 


FRED   LAWRENCE.  203 

the  same  subjects,  and.  within  half  an  hour, 
both  seemed  to  have  forgotten  that  they  had 
been  strangers,  and  were  chatting  as  famil- 
iarly as  friends  for  a  lifetime.  Nothing 
could  he  further  from  the  thoughts  of  either 
than  the  vulgar  distinction  of  wealth  which 
fashion  might  have  interposed  between  them. 
Emily  began  to  feel  the  true  pleasure  of  con- 
genial society;  and  admitted  that  a  little 
circle  of  friends  like  these  might  add  even  to 
the  attractions  of  home.  When  the  visitors 
left,  at  an  early  hour,  it  was  with  a  cordial 
invitation  to  repeat  the  visit  soon  and  fre- 
quently. 

Addie's  call  was  soon  returned,  and  from 
that  time  a  frequent  interchange  of  calls  and 
visit a  was  maintained  between  the  two.  Ad- 
die  was  one  year  the  younger,  but  the  self 
reliance  which  circumstances  had  rendered 
necessary  had  given  a  strength  and  maturity 
to  her  character  which  more  than  balanced 
the  difference  of  ag?.  In  those  accomplish* 
ments  which  demand  wealth  and  leisure  for 


204  FRED    LAWRENCE. 

their  acquirement,  Emily  was  of  course  tlie 
superior,  while  Addie  had  all  the  native 
taste  which  led  her  to  appreciate  those  ex 
cellencies  in  her  friend,  without  the  low  self 
ishness  which  would  have  envied  her  their 
possession. 

Many  a  pleasant  Saturday,  when  released 
from  her  duties  as  teacher,  Addie  spent  with 
her  friend  in  their  favorite  occupations  ;  and 
at  evening  Fred  would  call,  on  his  return 
from  business,  to  escort  his  sister  home. 
These  days  were  long  to  be  remembered  by 
both  the  friends,  as  among  the  brightest 
spots  in  life.  They  sang  together  their  fa- 
vorite songs,  Emily  accompanying  with  her 
harp  or  piano  ;  together  they  visited  the 
galleries  of  paintings,  enjoying  all  the  treas- 
ures of  art  which  the  city  could  afford  ;  and 
still  more  pleasantly  they  spent  whole  days 
in  Mr.  Russel's  well-furnished  library,  read- 
ing in  company  their  favorite  books,  or  talk- 
ing, over  their  needlework,  of  various  sub- 
jects suggested   by  their  reading.     Addie 


FRED   LAWRENCE.  205 

was  never  tired  of  hearing,  noi  Emily  of 
describing,  the  various  scenes  she  had  wit- 
nessed in  Europe  ;  the  grandeur  of  the  Alps, 
and  the  beauty  of  the  Italian  lakes  and  sun- 
Bets  ;  the  wonders  of  art  in  the  cities  of 
Italy  and  France  ;  the  persons  of  distinction 
of  whom  both  had  often  heard,  and  whom 
Emily  had  seen.  Both  seemed  to  enjoy  the 
pleasures  of  the  tour  without  its  perils. 

The  studies  in  which  each  had  been  sepa- 
rately interested  had  a  double  charm,  from  be- 
ing shared  with  a  sympathizing  companion  ; 
and,  as  in  all  true  friendships,  both  were 
made  better  and  happier  by  the  intercourse. 
18 


CHAPTER   XXVIII. 

The  Christmas  holidays  were  again  ap- 
proaching— the  season  for  social  cheer  and 
renewed  tokens  of  home  affection.  Costly 
gifts  are  interchanged  where  fortune  favors  ; 
hut  more  valued  still  are  the  humbler  offer- 
ings purchased  by  cheerful  self-denial.  Many 
a  son  or  brother,  who  through  the  whole 
year  has  not  indulged  himself  in  a  single  ar- 
ticle of  luxury,  grows  suddenly  extravagant 
in  behalf  of  the  loved  ones  at  home  ;  and 
treasures  far  too  valuable  for  one's  own  use, 
are  only  too  trifling  as  expressions  of  re- 
membrance to  another. 

Frederic,  too,  had  been  plotting,  and  on  a 
larger  scale  even  than  the  good  Santa  Clans; 
all  whose  gifts  are  supposed  to  come  through 
the  chimney. 

"  I  ha\e  an  idea  in  my  head,  Addle,"  said 

(206) 


FRED    LAWRENCE.  207 

lie,  one  evening  in  December.  Their  mother 
had  just  retired,  leaving  the  brother  and 
sister  bj  the  glowing  grate  in  the  sitting 
room. 

"  An  idea !  is  it  possible  ?  Let  me  con 
gratulate  you  on  so  unusual  a  possession." 

"  Yes,  an  idea,  and,  if  realized,  it  will  be  a 
possession,  too,  for  us  all.  What's  more,  I 
want  you  to  help  me  carry  out  my  plan." 

"  At  your  service,  then — what  is  the 
plan  ?" 

'■  Addie,  do  you  remember  the  house  in 
Vernon  avenue,  where  we  used  to  live  ?" 

"  I  know  the  house  very  well,  though  I 
don't  remember  living  there." 

"  We  were  both  born  there,  you  know.  It 
was  the  only  house  father  ever  owned,  and  a 
beautiful  little  place  it  was.  Father  was 
obliged  to  give  it  up,  on  account  oT  some 
losses  in  business,  and  then  we  came  here. 
You  were  only  three  years  old,  so  it  is  not 
Strange  you  do  not  remember  the  place." 

'I  have  often  heard  mother  speak  of  it 


208  FRED    LAWRENCE. 

It  was  only  this  fall  we  were  walking  past 
it  one  day ;  it  was  standing  vacant  then. 
Mother  said  that,  until  very  lately,  she  could 
not  bear  to  see  the  house  ;  it  reminded  her 
too  painfully  of  old  times.  But  what  has  this 
to  do  with  your  plan,  Fred  ?" 

"A  great  deal,  since  it  is  the  very  object 
of  my  plan.  The  fact  is,  Addie,  I  am  going 
to  buy  that  house." 

"  Buy  a  house,  Fred !  I  thought  you  were 
a  sober  youth.     Now  you  must  be  crazy.'' 

"  Not  so  bad  as  that,  sis.  I  don't  intend 
to  go  into  any  wild  schemes,  or  involve  us  in 
any  embarrassments.  I  have  the  whole  thing 
planned  and  arranged  with  Mr.  Smith,  who 
is  the  owner  of  the  house.  In  the  first  place, 
you  know,  it  costs  less  in  the  end  to  buy  a 
house  than  to  rent  one.  Then  you  did  not 
know,  I  suppose,  that  I  have  been  laying 
aside  something  every  month  this  year  for 
that  very  purpose." 

"  Laying  aside  from  what,  pray  ?" 

'  From  my  salary,  to  be  sure.    Perhaps  J 


FRED   LAWRENCE.  209 

was  wrong  not  to  tell  you,  that  it  was  raised 
again  six  months  ago,  and  it  lias  always 
been  better,  you  know,  than  I  ever  had  at 
the  old  place.  It  was  too  bad,  as  I  thought 
then,  to  leave  so  much  of  the  burden  of  our 
support  upon  you  ;  but  you  see  I  Ijocame 
quite  sure  that  1  could  carry  out  my  plan ; 
and  then,  with  a  house  of  our  own,  and  no 
rent  to  pay,  ray  salary  will  be  amply  suffi- 
cient for  our  support;  so  you  may  give  up 
school-teaching  as  soon  as  you  please." 

"  And  so  you  have  been  plotting  and  plan- 
ning all  this  long  year,  without  letting  me 
into  your  secret.  I  do  think,  Fred,  it  is 
quite  an  enterprise  to  be  buying  a  house  out 
of  a  clerk's  salary.  How  many  others,  with 
the  same  income,  do  you  think  would  under- 
take the  same  thing?" 

"  Not  those  who  want  to  spend  more  than 
their  income  in  wine  and  cigars,  and  fast 
horses.  If  I  prefer  different  amusements,  that 
is  a  mere  matter  of  taste,  you  know.  But 
how  do  you  like  my  plan  ?" 
18* 


210  FRED   LAWRENCE. 

"  Grandly,  of  course  ;  but  I  really  doni 
Bee  how  you  can  carry  it  out." 

"  I  can  though,  as  you  shall  see  in  the  end. 
With  what  I  have  laid  aside,  and  what  I  can 
spare  now,  I  shall  pay  eight  hundred  dollars 
at  once,  and  the  rest  will  remain  on  mort- 
gage, the  interest  of  which  will  be  much  less 
than  our  present  rent.  If  I  live,  I  am 
certain  of  discharging  the  whole  amount  in 
two  years.  But  the  hardest  part  will  come 
upon  you.  The  house  must  be  furnished, 
you  know,  and  all  in  two  weeks." 

"Oh!  I  shall  like  that  so  much!  But 
how  shall  we  manage  it  without  mother's 
knowledge  ?" 

"  If  she  would  only  make  some  one  a  visit 
during  the  holidays.  Cannot  you  persuade 
her  to  do  so  ?" 

"  Yes  ;  now  I  remember,  she  was  wanting 
to  visit  our  friends  in  Massachusetts.  I 
will  coax  her  to  go  the  week  when  I  am  out 
of  school,  and  then  we  can  move,  and  get 
everything  arranged.    I  wish  we  could  make 


FRED    LAWRENCE.  211 

everything  look  just  as  it  used  to  be.     How 
can  we  find  out  about  that  ?" 

"  I  have  been  t;ixing  my  memory  for  the 
last  few  days,  and  I  fiud  I  have  quite  a  dis- 
tinct recollection  of  most  of  tlia  rooms.  It 
was  a  beautiful  place  then,  Addie." 

"  It  is  beautiful  now — outside,  at  least.  It 
will  not  be  quite  so  pleasant  in  the  winter, 
but  in  the  spring  we  will  have  the  garden 
all  in  bloom,  and  then  it  will  be  delight- 
ful." 

Mrs.  Lawrence  was  easily  persuaded  to 
make  a  week's  visit  to  a  friend  in  New 
England,  and  Addie  engaged  most  earnestly 
in  the  work  of  removal.  The  carpets,  which 
were  most  worn,  must  be  replaced  by  new 
ones,  and  Fred's  memory  was  tasked  to  the 
utmost  to  select  those,  as  nearly  as  possible, 
like  the  old  ones.  The  time-honored  articles 
of  furniture  were  set  in  their  old  familiar 
places  ;  everything  rubbed  and  polished,  til] 
the  whole  room  seemed  glowing  with  satis- 
faction. 


212  FRED    LAWRENCE. 

By  the  last  day  of  the  year  the  work  was 
done,  the  new  house  in  complete  order,  and 
the  old,  empty  and  descried.  As  Addie 
etood  in  the  parlor,  with  the  key  in  her 
hand,- taking  the  last  look  at  her  home  of 
many  years,  the  door-hell  rang,  and  Emily 
Russel  appeared. 

"  This  accounts  for  your  long  absence,  you 
little  0ulprit,"  said  she  .gayly.  "  Here  I  have 
been  expecting  you  all  the  week,  knowing 
you  were  out  of  school ;  and  it  seems  you 
have  been  taking  advantage  of  mamma's  ab- 
sence to  cut  up  all  sorts  of  freaks  in  the  way 
of  housekeeping.  What,  you  have  a  fancy 
for  primitive  simplicity,  and  are  going  to  re- 
ceive your  guests  to-morrow  on  bare  floors. 
That  furthers  my  plans  though,  so  I  shall 
not  scold." 

"  Yes,  you  cannot  imagine  what  domestic 
revolutions  Fred  and  I  have  been  plotting. 
We  have  taken  the  opportunity  while 
mother  was  absent  to  migrate  from  one  nest 
into  another.    But  if  you  are  not  too  tired 


FRED    LAWRENCE.  213 

perhaps  you  will  walk  with  me  to  our  new 
home;  it  is  not  so  very  far." 

It  was  a  clear  and  beautiful  winter  morn- 
ing ;  the  bracing  air  added  to  the  enjoyment 
of  the  walk,  and  our  two  young  friends,  in 
high  spirits,  chatted  merrily  over  their  plans. 
Emily  entered  heartily  into  the  interest  of 
the  movement,  only  regretting  that  she 
could  not  have  assisted  in  its  accomplish- 
ment. 

"  Oli !  Addie,  if  I  had  a  mother  to  work 
for,  it  seems  to  me  I  never  could  know  an- 
other wish." 

"  But  you  have  the  same  pleasure,  dear 
Emily,  in  contributing  to  the  happiness  of 
your  lather.  You  know  you  are  everything 
in  the  world  to  him." 

"  I  know  it,  Addie  ;  and  never  was  there  a 
kinder,  more  indulgent  father.  He  seems  to 
live  only  to  make  me  happy  ;  and  I  fear  some- 
times I  shall  grow  selfish  from  being  so  in- 
dulged. But  oh !  Addie,  you  cannot  know 
how  much  I  need  a  mother's  sympathy  and 


214  FRED    LAWRENCE. 

counsel.  I  feel  it  to  day  more  than  e\er.  1 
came  to  see  if  you  would  not  spend  to-rnor« 
row  with  me,  and  help  me  receive  my  calls  ; 
out  I  see  I  must  not  ask  this,  since  you 
have  so  much  to  enjoy  in  your  own  new 
home." 

"But  why  do  you  need  any  help,  dear 
Emmie?  You  have  so  pleasant  a  circle  of 
acquaintances  that  I  am  sure  you  will  enjoy 
the  day." 

"  I  was  alone  last  New  Year's,  Addie,  and 
I  hope  never  to  pass  such  a  day  again.  It 
will  be  different  to-morrow ;  and  it  was 
partly  for  that  reason  that  I  wanted  to  have 
you  with  me.  Father  has  at  last  consented 
to  let  me  do  without  wine  upon  our  table 
this  year,  though  he  has  always  considered 
it  essential  to  a  complete  entertainment.  I 
do  not  and  cannot  think  it  is  right,  from  my 
experience  last  year.  Now,  you  know,  hav- 
ing had  my  own  way  in  this,  I  would  not  for 
the  world  fail  in  any  other  respect,  of  enter 
taining  our  guests  agreeably. 


FRED    LA  WHENCE.  215 

"  I  should  be  of  no  assistance  to  you, 
Emmie,  for  I  know  far  less  of  social  customs 
than  you.  But  I  am  sure  you  cannot  fail  of 
doing  your  part  well.  Here  we  are  now,  at 
our  new  home,  and  Maggie  is  looking  out  of 
the  window  waiting  for  me." 

"  What  a  charming  place  I"  said  Emily,  as 
they  ascended  the  steps  of  the  south  piazza, 
over  which  vines  and  rosebushes  were  train- 
ed, leafless  now,  but  giving  promise  of  future 
loveliness. 

"  And  how  beautifully  you  have  arranged 
everything!"  she  continued,  as  they  entered 
the  little  parlor.  Maggie  had  kindled  a 
blazing  fire  in  the  grate  ;  and  the  whole 
room  was  the  picture  of  cheerfulness  and 
comfort.  The  folds  of  the  snowy  muslin 
window-curtains  had  been  arranged  for  th 
fiftieth  time  at  least,  by  Addie's  careful  fin 
gers  ;  the  position  of  every  article  had  been 
studied  with  reference  to  artistic  effect  and 
the  most  fastidious  taste  could  hardly  have 
suggested  an  improvement. 


216  FRED    LAWRENCE. 

"  Why  did  you  not  let  me  come  and  help 
you  ?"  asked  Emily,  as  they  passed  from 
room  to  room. 

"  I  wanted  very  much  to  see  you,  but 
could  not  find  the  time  either  to  go  or  send, 
I  have  been  so  busy  every  moment  of  every 
day.  There  is  only  one  thing  left  to  be 
done,  and  that  is,  to  arrange  our  books  in 
the  little  library  back  of  the  parlors.  Let 
us  do  that  before  dinner,  and  then  we  will 
spend  the  afternoon  as  we  usually  do,  in 
reading  and  sewing.  You  must  help  me  bv 
being  my  guest  to-day,  the  last  day  of  my 
housekeeping." 

The  long  expected  morning  of  the  New 
Year  at  last  dawned.  Mrs.  Lawrence  was 
expected  by  the  early  boat,  and  Fred  was 
on  the  dock  before  its  arrival,  eagerly  wait- 
ing to  conduct  her  to  their  new  home. 

"  It  was  not  necessary  to  come  with  a  car- 
riage, my  son,  the  distance  is  so  short." 

"  But  I  wanted  it,  this  morning,  for  once, 
mother  ;  you  will  not  object." 


FRED    LAWRENCE.  217 

They  rode  on  for  some  minutes,  talking 
busily  of  the  journey,  and  the  friends  she 
had  left,  Fred  doing  his  utmost  to  absorb  hia 
mother  in  conversation.     At  last  she  said  : 

"  We  arc  going  too  far,  Fred." 

"  I  think  not,  mother." 

"  But  I  am  sure  of  it,  my  son,  and  we  are 
very  far  from  the  right  street." 

'  Mother,  would  you  be  very  much  dis- 
pleased, if  Addie  and  I  had  taken  a  great 
responsibility  while  you  were  away? — if  we 
had  even  taken  another  house  without  con- 
sulting you?" 

Before  there  was  time  for  a  reply,  the 
carriage  stopped  before  the  familiar  door ; 
and  Addie  stood  upon  the  piazza  to  welcome 
her  mother  to  her  long  lost  home. 

"  My  children !     What  does  this  mean  ?  " 

"That  this  place  is  yours  again,  dear 
mother.  I  have  bought  it,  and  it  shall  be 
our  home  while  we  live." 

The  benevolent  Santa  Claus  looked  upon 
few  happier  groups  that  morning  than  th« 
19 


218  FRED   LAWRENCE. 

one  which  assembled  in  the  little  breakfast 
room,  for  the  repast  which  Addle  had  pre- 
pared with  her  utmost  skill.  The  place 
naturally  suggested  old  scenes  and  thoughts 
to  the  mother's  mind. 

"It  is  like  a  dream,"  said  she,  "that  so 
many  years  have  passed,  and  you  who  were 
little  children  when  we  left  here,  are  now 
grown  up  to  manhood  and  womanhood." 

•'  I  well  remember  the  day  we  left,"  said 
Frederic.  "Though  too  much  a  child  to 
understand  the  reasons,  I  knew  you  were 
sad  at  leaving  the  old  home ;  and  I  thought 
then,  mother,  that  when  I  was  a  man,  I 
would  buy  it  for  you  again." 


CHAPTER    XXIX. 

Nearly  five  years  have  passed,  with  but 
few  outward  changes  in  the  condition  of 
the  subjects  of  our  story.  The  young  people 
have  not  yet  grown  old,  though,  it  may  be, 
all  have  been  advancing  in  the  discipline  of 
life,  nearer  to  its  great  object.  Success  has 
crowned  the  efforts  of  Frederic  Lawrence, 
and  many  cherished  plans  which  he  had  pro- 
posed to  himself  in  the  conduct  of  life,  have 
been  attained.  A  moment's  call  at  the  two 
dwellings  which  we  have  before  visited,  will 
perhaps  give  us  some  idea  of  the  true  state 
of  affairs. 

Let  us  look  first  into  Mr.  RusseFs  parlor, 
where  he  sits  witli  his  daughter,  on  a  beau- 
tiful evening  in  June.  The  gas  is  not  yet 
lighted.  Emily  is  sitting  by  an  open  win- 
dow, with  downcast  eyes,  wrapped  in  the 

(219; 


220  FRED    LAWRENCE. 

moonlight  and  her  own  busy  thoughts.  Uei 
father  breaks  the  silence. 

"  Has  Lawrence  been  here  to-day,  Emily  ?x 

"  Yes,  father." 

"And  has  opened  the  same  subject  to  30a 
that  he  did  to  me  this  morning  ?  " 

"  I  suppose  so,  father." 

"  And  what  have  you  told  him  ?  " 

"  That  I  could  never  leave  you,  nor  muke 
any  new  arrangement  that  would  interfera 
with  my  duty  to  you." 

"Remember  that  I  cannot  always  stay 
with  you,  Emmie.  I  am  growing  old,  dar- 
ling, and  I  wish  to  know  that  you  will  be 
cared  for  Avhen  I  am  gone.  There  is  no  one 
to  whose  protection  I  could  so  cheerfully 
entrust  my  child  as  Lawrence,  no  one  in 
whose  honor  and  goodness  I  could  have  such 
perfect  confidence.  Tell  me,  my  Emily,  you 
will  not  disappoint  me  in  this !  " 

"  Father,"  said  Emily,  in  a  trembling 
voice,  "I  regard  Frederic  Lawrence  as  a 
true  and  faithful  friend,  and  I  shall  never 


FHKn   LAWRENCE.  221 

esteem  another  as  highly  as  I  do  him  ;  but  I 
feel  that  my  place  is  with  you  ;  you  must  not 
send  me  away." 

"  How  would  it  answer,  Emily,  if  you  had 
a  home  of  your  own,  and  should  take  your 
old  father  to  live  with  you  ?  " 

"  Would  you  go,  papa  ?  " 

"  That  would  alter  the  case,  would  it  not? 
I  thought  so.  Well,  Emmie,  what  sort  of 
a  home  would  you  like  ?  " 

"  I  hardly  care,  papa.  Any  place  where 
you  live,  and  those  I  love  best,  would  be  a 
pleasant  home  to  me.  I  have  always  been 
happy  here,  and  yet  I  love  the  country,  you 
know." 

"  Do  you  remember  that  country  seat  just 
beyond  B ,  that  we  saw  on  our  ride  ?  " 

"The  one  that  was  surrounded  by  those 
splendid  trees,  with  the  sloping  grassy  law  n 
on  three  sides  ?  Yes,  father,  I  remember  it 
very  well." 

"  Would  that  suit  you  for  a  home,  Era 
mie?" 

19* 


222  FRED   LAWRENCE. 

"  Oh,  it  would  more  than  suit  me,  dear 
father.  I  do  not  need  anything  so  beauti- 
ful." 

"I  thought  you  would  like  the  situation. 
It  is  not  more  than  half  a  mile  from  Mrs. 
Lawrence's  ;  and  so  you  and  Addie  will  be 
near  neighbors.  Well,  it  is  yours,  my  child. 
I  had  the  deed  drawn  this  afternoon,  because 
it  was  your  birthday.  Take  it  as  your  birth- 
day gift,  and  may  its  association  with  your 
father's  love,  make  it  a  very  happy  home  to 
you." 

"  Dear,  dear  father !  you  are  too  kind. 
Bow  shall  I  ever  thank  you  enough  ?  " 

"  By  never  opposing  my  wishes  on  so  im- 
portant a  subject.  What !  you  thought  of 
acting  over  the  old  scene  of  wilful  child 
and  tyrannical  parent.  But  we  have  settled 
the  dispute  now,  have  we  not,  Emmie  ?" 

"  I  believe  so,  father." 

On  the  same  evening,  Mrs.  Lawrence  and 
Addie  are  sitting  on  the  piazza  of  their  quiet 
suburban  home.     We   must  be  excused  if 


FRED   LAWRENCE.  223 

here  too,  we  find  ourselves  listening  to  fam- 
ily confidences. 

"  May  I  know  the  result  of  your  decision 
this  morning,  my  daughter,"  inquires  Mrs. 
Lawrence. 

"  Had  you  not  guessed  what  the  result 
would  be,  mother  ?" 

"I  might  have  done  so,  had  I  not  remem- 
bered another  acquaintance  of  longer  stand- 
ing, which  I  thought  might  interfere  with 
this." 

"  No,  mother,  that  was  settled  some  time 
ago.  I  have  always  liked  Charles  Mason 
well  enough,  as  a  friend,  you  know ;  but, 
mother,  I  must  love  some  one  who  is  a  great 
deal  wiser  and  better  than  I,  one  who  will 
help  me  to  improve.  This,  Alfred  Miller 
does.  When  talking  with  him,  I  always  feel 
dissatisfied  with  my  own  ignorance,  and  yet 
I  am  never  discouraged.  It  then  seems  pos- 
sible that,  with  time  and  opportunity,  I 
may  become  all  that  I  want  to  be." 

"That  is,  he  inspires  both  hope  and  as 


224  FRED   LAWRENCE. 

piration.  You  are  quite  right,  my  ehild, 
These  very  affections  which  form  so  impor- 
tant a  part  of  our  life,  were  undoubtedly  de- 
signed to  advance  our  mental  and  spiritual 
growth." 

"  Shall  I  interrupt  your  twilight  conver- 
sation?" asked  Frederic,  appearing  at  the 
door. 

'  I  presume  not,"  replied  his  mother,  but 
the  three  sat  some  moments,  musing  in  the 
moonlight,  before  either  spoke.  At  last 
Frederic  said  : 

"  I  have  just  been  thinking,  mother,  that 
it  is  ten  years  to-day  since  I  left  school. 
How  well  I  remember  the  day !  It  seemed 
then  as  if  all  my  plans  for  life  were  over 
turned." 

"  And  yet  you  have  been  able  to  form  new 
ones  which  have  been  prospered.  Perhaps 
you  have  even  learned  some  lessons,  by 
means  of  the  disappointment,  which  you 
would  have  missed  without  it." 

"  I  have  learned  one  thing,  at  least,"  Fred 


FRED   LAWRENCE.  225 

eric  replied,  '  that  it  is  possible  to  realize 
the  principal  ends  of  life,  without  having 
every  thing  one's  own  way.  It  seemed  to 
me  then,  that  without  a  collegiate  course  I 
could  never  do  or  be  very  much  in  life. 
Now  I  begin  to  think  there  is  something  to 
live  for  after  all." 

"  A  wiser  than  we  has  the  ordering  of  our 
lives,"  replied  his  mother.  "  If  we  are  atten- 
tive to  His  direction,  we  shall  find  a  thou- 
sand means  of  improvement,  where  human 
wisdom  could  supply  but  one.  All  the  as- 
sistances which  institutions  of  learning  caD 
afford,  and  which,  when  bestowed  upon  us, 
cannot  be  too  highly  valued,  are  at  best  but 
a  small  part  of  the  whole  discipline  of  lite. 
It  is  a  grand  system  of  instruction,  which 
our  Heavenly  Father  has  appointed  in  this 
world.  If  we  are  but  disposed  to  profit  by 
all  our  opportunities,  we  shall  find  that  not 
only  the  truths  of  the  material  creation,  but 
all  the  events  and  orderings  of  our  social 
lives,  every  friendship,   every  duty,  every 


226  FRED  LAWRENCE. 

trial  and  disappointment,  will  minister  to 
our  growth  toward  the  perfection  for  which 
God  has  destined  us.  The  whole  world  is  a 
school,  in  which  not  only  mind,  but  heart 
and  soul,  are  to  be  developed  ;  our  lives  are 
the  term  of  instruction,  and  we  graduate 
when  our  earthly  education  is  complete,  and 
we  are  fitted  for  a  higher  state  of  being,  a 
wider  sphere,  and  a  larger  activity. 


THB  sn>. 


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